The Tarot Series
by LJG
Summary: A post season two series that has Justin seeking a change of scene and Brian seeking Justin. What he finds is not what he expects and reminds Brian far too much of himself. Will a fresh start bring a new romance or will it merely cement the ending of one. Come to France with the boys and find out in this 22 chapter series based on the major arcana of the Tarot. Reviews mean a lot!
1. Prologue

**Authors note: **_Mysterious Marilyn, one of my favourite QAF characters, introduces this series and serves throughout as occasional Greek chorus. This prologue is not indicative of the rest of the series - it's just a lead in to provide context for the chapter names._

**Prologue**

As a devoted student of human nature, I often find myself people watching and perhaps eavesdropping a little from time to time. I didn't say it was a _nice _thing to do, you understand, merely that I'm fond of the activity. That little brunet a few stools down, for instance, he's very entertaining. Let's not forget his charming mother; she never fails to amuse...or to educate. What is today's T-shirt wisdom? Ah yes: _Flies spread disease - keep yours zipped_. So true.

"Ma...really...I'm done, and I have to get back to the store."

"Michael Charles Novotny, you finish everything on that plate. You're turning into a goddamn skeleton right in front of me. Now, I'm gonna pack up something for Ben and you make sure my gorgeous professor in-law eats _it, _and not the fuckin' bowl of granola he usually calls dinner."

That tone certainly discourages disagreement and I admire her vernacular. The dramatic Debbie is a delightful woman in every sense of the word - except perhaps, for the wig. It is a rather _unfortunate _shade of titian, although I've seen her in worse. She continues to mutter as she stomps off in search of sustenance for the absent Ben. "I swear, if I didn't make sure you ate, you'd fucking waste away to nothin'."

Now, I've seen her lad often around Liberty Avenue, even read for him once, and he isn't remotely skeletal. Actually, I believe he has a nice little tush on him, if memory serves. And it usually does where a fine behind is concerned. Not that I've had the pleasure myself - more's the pity. It's highly unlikely that anyone else has either since tall, dark and dreamy came on the scene. Before that he was pining for tall, dark and dysfunctional, but they seem to have sorted themselves out.

Look at him. The poor thing is clearly stuffed like a Christmas goose, but along with the takeout she's bringing him another platter full of ...good lord, what are those? Lemon squares? Well, let's hope they go straight to his ass. He should just refuse them, but I know his type - he won't.

Now _there's _a boy with mother issues. Sweet, to be sure, but definitely a Freudian's wet dream. Although, one must admit, there is something to be said for believing everything longer than it is wide is a phallic symbol.

I'm more of a Jungian, myself - hence my chosen profession. Not so much a profession really, as a calling. At least, that's how I think of it, though I'm not blind to the disparagement my vocation seems to inspire. Philistines! Well, in a group they might mock, but privately, many of them seek the guidance of the Tarot and I am its willing instrument - for a small fee, of course. A girl has to keep herself in mascara somehow.

As I said, I'm closer to a Jungian perspective, which among other things, means I believe we are all connected. That everything we ever were, or are, or could be, is sort of floating around in the ether and can be accessed at any time if only we would try.

Carl Jung presented the idea that all of humanity is linked together since the beginning of time in a vast collective consciousness. Has it been proved that memory moves forward as well as backward? Maybe. Waves of matter smaller that the atom are being discovered and mastered every day. Who's to say that emotions of love and hate are not a wave of energy yet to be discovered. If a concrete slab is vibrating at a molecular level, whose to say that emotions, thoughts, and actions are not vibrating somewhere in the past, which is the same place as the future. It was Albert Einstein who came close to proving that past, present, and future are all one; that we just choose to perceive time in a linear fashion.

So what does all this have to do with the Tarot, you ask? Each card is symbolic of an energy or spiritual truth, its relevance depending upon its position in the spread and of course, the perspective of the reader. Another way to look at it is to view them, particularly the 22 Major Arcana cards, as phases of life. Contrary to popular misconception, the Tarot doesn't exactly predict the future. What it does do, is point out probabilities based on past and current actions and beliefs. Think of it like a map. The tarot can tell you where you have been and, based on which route you are currently traveling - what little twists are coming and where you are likely to end up.

The whole point is to see where certain roads might take you, so that if you don't like the destination, you can change course. The cards can often tell you what part of your journey you are on, what lessons you are learning and what challenges are just ahead. As the wise Jonas Salk said so eloquently: _Intuition will tell the thinking mind where to look next_.

What - surprised? Just because I wear a dress and read what appear to be pretty playing cards for a living, I'm not an intellectual? It's not as though I'm blonde you know - well not this month, anyway.

Speaking of blonds, here comes a favorite of mine who does not fit the stereotype - although I'm willing to bet he has more fun. He's a perky little thing and I admire his spirit. I admire his ass too, but I'm not his type. Neither is brown eyes down the counter from me if their reaction to one another is any indication. That one's grabbed his take out container and is out the door faster than you can say _fuck off_. Which they just did, albeit in a non-verbal fashion. Boys, boys - can't we all just get along? Apparently not.

"Sunshine!" Well it would appear that his surrogate mother is happy to see him. "Christ, you look terrible. Let me get you something to eat." Ah yes, food - the cure all. In Debbie's world there's nothing that a little grease and fat won't fix, and I'm not entirely sure she's wrong. She's certainly correct in her estimation of little Sunshine's appearance; it looks as though there's been an eclipse.

"When the hell are you and Michael gonna behave like grown ups?"

"Deb, please. I'm begging you not to go there - not today, I just can't deal."

She makes a closer inspection and takes him at his word. "Ok sweetie. Whatever you say. Just promise me you'll eat a little something, hmm?"

"How about the special - to go please."

"Comin' right up." He looks relieved that she's getting his food with no further comment.

I surreptitiously make further observation, since he must look worse than I thought if he could dampen Debbie's garrulous disposition. Tsk tsk...oh dear. Debbie's concern is well placed I see. The poor boy fairly exudes melancholy and confusion. One doesn't have to be psychic to guess why, unless one isn't privy to the Liberty Avenue grapevine. Those two beautiful boys are determined to give themselves a difficult time, it would appear. Well, some things have to come the hard way in order that we value them sufficiently. Still, I worry for the sad young blond. Maybe I'll just...it couldn't hurt...I won't say anything, but it might ease my mind to know...

I pull a card and...hmm, well...this _is _interesting.


	2. The Fool

Early morning wasn't usually a time of day that did anything for him. Getting out of bed for class or work had always been a supreme effort and one he usually resented having to make. Not so any longer, or at least for the present, and he was unconcerned with why.

There were benefits to being out at this hour and he allowed himself to enjoy them as he ran past the house with the yellow door and the stone planter that matched. For one thing, it was quiet and it provided a certain peace that lying there vainly trying to return to slumber did not. He'd found himself going to bed much earlier as a result and this had significantly cut down on the time he spent with the rest of the world, which, although not done by design, suited him rather well.

Justin had been largely incommunicado for weeks, during which time everyone and his dog had speculated about the break-up of Liberty Avenue's unlikeliest lovebirds. He knew what they must think was going on, but they had no clue. And that was how he wanted to keep it.

It wasn't that he worried everyone would fault him, because truth be told, that was his preference. He _felt _at fault - for so many things. Debbie accused Brian of never being able to do anything quietly or in a small fashion, but it was really _he _who always managed to snare as many people as possible in the web of his drama. Look at his love life for Christ's sake. Not only had he managed to torpedo his own, but that of at least two others as well. His coming out, his bashing, his relationship with Brian: all these had touched the lives of so many other people and not in a good way. Justin felt like some kind of plague and he was reasonably certain Michael would agree with that.

Michael. There was a loose end he was happy to have already tied up. After weeks of managing to avoid him, and pretty much everyone else, Michael had arrived at Debbie's on one of Justin's rare visits there. He'd basically gone on about how he had heard from the publisher and it looked like there was quite a bit of interest in _Rage _- specifically, lucrative interest. He didn't feel that either he or Justin were in a position to turn down something profitable simply because they weren't getting along - that they both had "obligations" that could be better met with this cash. The debt to Brian remained unspoken, but it was obviously on both their minds.

Michael seemed surprised that the young man hadn't refused outright and was thus agreeable to him taking a little time to think about it. His confidence that Justin would welcome the means to be more financially independent was warranted. Granted, it would take a little while before the money came flowing in large quantities, but the potential was definitely there and Michael was right, he shouldn't pass that up. Although Justin did intend to spell out some non-negotiable conditions under which he would agree to continue the comic, he didn't think Michael would find them too onerous and might actually prefer them. He had planned to meet him a day or two before he left, that way there wouldn't be time for a lot of talk to get around. What happened after he was gone wasn't something he worried about.

He could not believe the way everything had fallen into place. He wasn't going to question it; he was just going to go with it. It solved some of his more immediate problems and allowed him the space to ignore the others. It must be especially galling for his father and Justin wasn't so emotionally bogged down that he didn't have room for a little gloating.

_xxxx_

His mother had insisted that they could both put aside their animosity for a few hours and come to Nana Lily's 90th birthday celebration. Her family hadn't told her anything about Craig and Jennifer's divorce and certainly nothing of Justin's _troubles, _as they were euphemistically referred to among the clan. People were afraid the shock of it all would prove fatal for the old woman.

Nana Lily was his father's maternal grandmother and he'd had the good fortune to get to know his great-grandmother well as a child. He hadn't seen her much in recent years, not since she moved into Sunset Villa, of her own volition apparently. He missed her old house with its veranda and porch swing, and his visits there had been some of the high points of his childhood.

He'd liked to visit Nana for many reasons, but one of his favorite things had been to be there with his father. The only thing better than seeing your parents get treated like kids by theirparents, was being lumped in together as grandchildren_. _He remembered going to Nana's and the things she would say to his Dad, "Now, you two make sure to take off your shoes. You're both messy boys, but Craig, you are the worst one for jumping into puddles and then tracking mud all over the house. Here - have a cookie." It was like they were both eight and Justin loved it. Back then his father hadn't really minded either. He would simply shrug and then smile at Justin while they shared some cookies.

Justin was not happy to be in the same room as his father now, but there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Nana - or his mother. Jennifer had never known her own grandmother well and that added to her fondness of Lily. She had insisted that both Craig and Justin come to the party and behave themselves - or else. Her strong-arm tactics had been unnecessary for him and he suspected the "You two look pleasant for a couple of hours, or I'll make sure you look miserable indefinitely." had been largely for his father's benefit.

What Justin hadn't counted on was Nana insisting on chatting with "both her boys" together for a good chunk of the evening. His only solace was how very uncomfortable his father must be.

"My little Justin - I can't believe you're nineteen now. You've become such a mature young man - just like your Dad. But you're not as serious as he was. Isn't that right Craig?"

"Right, Nana." Craig had been fairly monosyllabic all evening. He couldn't believe he let his ex-wife talk him into this.

"You look great, Nana." Justin said sincerely. "I'd like to come by one day and maybe do some sketches of you. I haven't done that in a long time."

"Oh, who wants to look at pictures of this wrinkled old face? You should be drawing churches and castles and beautiful things." Nana Lily advised him. "I must say, I am glad you put your trip off until this summer, Justin. I heard from a friend that her daughter is traveling Europe soon too and the weather is supposed to be lovely. Not too hot this year, apparently. I understand last summer was just beastly."

The old lady tried not to smile when she saw identical looks of confusion on both faces. "Jennifer explained that you wanted to work last summer and that's why you didn't go. So sensible to travel with more spending money of your own, Justin. When I went on my tour I wasn't able to bring half the things home with me that I wanted to."

"Nana, what made you think I was going to Europe?"

"Well, everyone in our family does their tour the summer after high school. Now, I do agree putting it off a year is wiser, but you shouldn't wait another one dear;. Otherwise, you might get too caught up in other things and never go."

Craig thought he'd better say something but couldn't really think of what. "Nana, I don't think you understand..."

Lily interrupted as though he hadn't spoken at all. "Did you boys hear? Now - I shouldn't be spreading gossip, but your great-aunt Caroline's oldest grandson? He is sending his daughter to _China _for her tour! Can you believe it? The Orient is lovely and extensive travel may be the cornerstone of any decent education, but to start in the East? No - one must begin with the classical cities first. I can't imagine what they are thinking to allow it. Next we'll be sending the children off on Safari."

Justin and Craig were both sitting there thinking "Huh?" and wondering how to handle this. Craig spoke first, or tried to. "Nana, Justin isn't going to ..."

"Well, of course Justin isn't going to tour China. For heaven sakes, dear, I know that. An artist would naturally go to Italy, Greece and other countries where one can get a truly classical education in art and culture. I'm sure you're looking forward to it immensely, aren't you my dear."

"Of course, Nana." Well, looking forward to a thing was essentially waiting for it, so Justin hadn't exactly lied. He'd be waiting all right. Actually, he'd completely forgotten that it was fairly expected in his family that you went to Europe for three weeks or so after high school and soaked up as much culture as possible. He knew that most of his cousins soaked up a lot more alcohol than culture and looked at it as sort of an extreme shopping spree. It was dubious that they ever set foot in a church or museum. They were the sort who visited the high-class version of McDonald's in every city, wandered the streets cursing the signage and wondering why everyone's English was so bad. Travel and money were wasted on people like that.

"Naturally you're looking forward to it. Your father had a wonderful time when he went, didn't you, Craig."

What could the man do but answer? "Yes, Nana."

"Well - I tell you what I'd like."

Both boys, for that's how each felt at this point, looked up and wondered how much worse it could get.

"I'd like it if you brought Justin round to see me when he gets back. You bring your old Europe pictures with you to show me again and Justin will bring his sketches. Now that would be lovely. You won't forget, will you Craig."

"Of course not, Nana."

"Good good. Now would you be a real dear and fetch me another glass of wine?"

Craig couldn't exactly say "no", but did voice his concern. "Are you sure you should be drinking any? I don't think your doctors have that on the approved list." The whole family had been briefed on what Lily could and could not have to eat and drink and they were told to adapt meals out, and gifts brought, accordingly. Lily was incredibly irritated by it all.

"My darling boy, if all I did was follow their approved list, I'd have died from boredom long ago. Banning chocolate of all things? They keep confiscating it - ridiculous. They'll keep me alive forever but give me nothing to live for. Now - go on." Craig acquiesced quietly and made his way to the bar.

Justin saw his dad approach his mother and though the way they were standing made it difficult to lip read, Justin thought he could make out his mother saying, "What was I supposed to tell her? That you're an asshole?" _Go Mom_. Justin smiled.

Nana Lily cleared her throat and he returned his attention to her. Something in her expression had changed. "Justin. Don't say _no _to him right away."

"What do you mean?"

"I meanthat with that little performance, and the wish of all these sweet misguided folks to keep me insulated from any excitement, I'm willing to bet your father offers to send you after all."

"How did you..." Justin realized that of course, his mother probably told her. They had been close for years and he knew that his mom was probably the one keeping Nana in chocolate too. "How much did she tell you?"

"Enough to know that you could probably use a break and maybe a change of scene. That you deserve some fun. Unless you'd really rather go somewhere else? I was kidding a little about choices in destination." Nana looked teary and took his hand a moment. "I'm so glad to be able to see you here today, my sweet boy. I want you to go. It's a small thing, but it's important to get as much from life as you can, _while _you can."

"Thanks Nana, but... I don't know. Dad's pretty upset with me - he doesn't approve of my life, so he's cut me out of his. That doesn't make me happy, but there's not much I can do about it."

"I'm proud of you, Justin. You're a good man, and if we give your Dad enough time he might grow up to be one too."

"Maybe." Justin said quietly.

"He'll be back soon, after he finishes grilling your mother." Justin couldn't believe how much didn't get by her. "You think about what I said, all right? And send me some postcards."

"Okay." Justin agreed to think about it.

Lily smiled at getting her way then developed a rather mischievous expression. "Did I ever tell you - I had a crush on a girl at school once..."

"Ugh...Nana!"

xxxx

His grandmother had been right. Craig, after hearing a few stories about the cousin who didn't send his child on tour and how mercilessly he was vilified, had taken Justin aside and offered to send him. He still kept up the pretense that he couldn't afford school, but said he'd "scrape together" enough to fly Justin to Europe and money for a month of expenses.

Justin wasn't stupid. He had seen the wheels turning in Craig's homophobic head. Not only would he not look like an asshole to the family, but also he'd manage to get Justin away from "that pervert" for at least a little while. Probably thought 'who knows - maybe he'll finally come to his senses over there'. Right. That was unlikely in the extreme, but Justin would let his Dad think whatever he wanted as long as it provided him the means to escape for a while. This was perfect.

He jogged back up to the condo and let himself in. He'd been staying here instead of Ethan's this last week before he left, in an effort to reconcile his mother to his going. She was happy for him, but a little worried - although she wasn't saying that of course. Finally, Justin had sat her down yesterday and was as honest with her as he could be.

"Mom - I need to do this. I need to get away from everything right now and I don't think that checking in with you every other day is going to accomplish that. I need some space."

"I know that, honey and I want you to go - I just...I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you, too - but I'm not happy here right now. I need a change of scene, some new perspective." A place to hide.

"You're right, honey. You can take care of yourself, I know that." She didn't know any such thing but had felt it was the right thing to say. "Just please promise you'll email once a week until you get back. If you need something, you call me. Deal?"

Justin was relieved and surprised that he was getting away this easily. She must really be worried. "I will Mom. I promise."

Jennifer was all business again, having managed to stifle most of her over-protective impulses. "Well, we've got your passport and your tickets all organized. And you did take the insurance options, right?"

"Of course, Mom."

"Okay then, I guess that's it until tomorrow. I could still drive you into New York, Justin. You don't have to get the connection out of Pittsburgh."

"No, it's fine. There's only 40 minutes between planes."

"Well if you're sure." Jennifer felt there must be more she could do for him, since she'd been unable to remove the haunted look that seemed to creep onto his face whenever he thought himself unobserved. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. She also suspected he went walking at night and that wasn't something that made her especially confident in his safety. Intellectually she knew she was overreacting, but after last year's scare, she simply couldn't help herself. "What are you going to do today, honey?"

"I have to make the rounds. It's been tough, but I need to see everyone before I leave. I _think _most of them are still speaking to me."

"Justin, don't be silly. This business between you and Brian has nothing to do with your friendship with them."

"I guess." Justin hoped she was right.

"Are you going to see him?"

"I don't think so."

"Honey, I never got the impression that Brian was an unfair person. I'm sure he understands that you have a lot on your mind and this can be a confusing time for any young man. After all, it wasn't _that _long ago that he was one too."

"Jeez, well I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear that, since you made it sound like eons when I first moved in with him."

"Let's just say it took a little getting used to."

"I know what you mean." Justin hadgotten used to it, though - for the most part. And despite everything that had happened after, he missed it.

xxxx

It hadn't been as bad as he thought to see everyone. He'd dropped in on Emmett at work and found an enthusiastic Ted there as well. Both were thrilled for him and no mention was made of Brian. Emmett had given him some money, saying it wasn't much, but making him promise to get to Milan and throw this in towards something "fabulous". Ted had urged him to visit the Opera in Vienna if he could, and had also slipped him some cash saying, "Just in case".

Debbie, Vic and the girls, he'd managed to see all at once by having them meet him at the diner for lunch. Their conversation had eased his mind on one matter: Brian was out of town on business and so the chance of an unplanned and unpleasant encounter with him before Justin left was removed. He felt strangely sad about that lack of chance, although he'd thought he'd been dreading it.

They'd all acted very happy for him and had also insisted on handing him money. It was getting ridiculous. Vic had caught him alone for a moment after talking to one of the waiters, and urged Justin to take $50. He said that he wanted him to spend it on a ridiculously expensive glass of fine wine, in a chic restaurant and to think of Vic while he drank it.

He was also unable to refuse money from the girls. Lindsay had said he'd find himself short on cash and sketch paper in no time and she didn't want him going without food to pay for his art. Melanie had reminded him that _starving artist_ was just an expression and they expected to get postcards saying he was getting fat on rich European food. Clearly they both were concerned at his appearance, but if he heard one more person tell him he'd lost weight, he was going to scream. Thankfully they said nothing and he was able to sit quietly with Gus for a moment.

The little boy looked so like his father that it made Justin want to cry, where none of his good-byes had thus far. He wondered if Brian had ever been as happy a baby as Gus was. Did he start out being full of light and hope like this child in Justin's arms, or had he always been so cynical. Justin wasn't sure which possibility saddened him more. "I'll miss you, Gus. I love you - don't get too big while I'm gone."

He handed the baby to Melanie and went over to talk to Debbie. She had been remarkably stoic thus far. "I have to get going, Deb."

"Off to see Daphne?"

"No - she's still out West with her folks. I'll email her, or call maybe."

"You're doing the right thing, Sunshine." Debbie said seriously. "I oughta be bouncing off the goddamn walls with worry, but for some reason, I think getting away for awhile is gonna be the best thing for you."

"Thanks, Deb." Justin had been braced for a big scene when the time finally came for him to go. "Maybe you could help keep my mother sane?"

"Sure sweetie." Debbie winked. "Count on it."

"Great."

"But Justin," Debbie became serious again. "You listen to me, honey. Things seem a little crazy right now I know, and maybe you want some distance...but baby, don't get too much, hmmm?"

Justin wasn't sure what she meant, just that she meant well. "Sure. Don't worry about me."

"That's my job, Sunshine." Her face became animated again. And she pulled some money from her apron. "Here - for Christ's sake, make sure you've always got protection. I expect you to play safe - you hear me?"

Justin laughed sincerely for the first time in weeks. "I love you, Deb."

"I love you too, Kiddo. I love you too."

xxxx

Justin made his way up the stairs he'd traversed for weeks. They still felt foreign to him and he couldn't help comparing everything about the place to Brian's loft, yet again. It wasn't that the loft was so much nicer, though that was certainly true, it was that he had felt at home there - from the first moment he'd walked in with Brian almost two years ago. This place could never feel like home and he knew of course, that this was directly related to its occupant. It wasn't the loft that had felt like home - it was Brian. But Justin didn't live there anymore.

He had stayed with Ethan for a few weeks after walking out of Babylon that night, but not in the capacity that people had thought. No one could seem to make the distinction between running _to _Ethan, versus running _from _Brian. Or rather, from how he felt when he was with Brian lately.

Ethan knew the difference though. Justin hadn't even had to tell him, and he'd been grateful that Ethan had asked for little in the way of explanation and that he had been willing to offer his friendship. Justin was pretty sure he didn't deserve it, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. At the time he'd wondered if maybe friends wouldn't soon be in short supply.

So now he had come to say goodbye. They talked frequently, of course and Ethan was all for the trip. Justin knew there had been a part of Ethan that, no matter how accepting he appeared, had hoped Justin might get over Brian and be free to love him instead. That night and the few weeks of living together that followed had told him differently. He had said all along that maybe Justin needed some distance and perspective and though self-serving at the time - it wasn't bad advice.

Justin knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately. "Hey! You're early." Ethan smiled and hugged him. "And lucky - I just got back."

"Job hunting - how sad." Justin teased. "I thought you were going to do the starving musician, street corner, thing all summer. Combining practice with earning a living."

"Yeah, well, I thought maybe I better have a backup plan. Pittsburgh isn't exactly the tourist capital of North America."

"I can't argue with that." Justin sat down across from his former lover.

"So." Ethan wasn't too sure what he was supposed to say. "You all packed?" God, what a stupid question.

"Yeah. I'm not taking much."

Ethan took this last chance to ask something he'd wanted to for weeks. He wasn't confident in an honest answer, but he didn't think he'd be the good friend he wanted to be if he didn't try. "Justin, are you...I mean, you're not...you're not _okay, _are you." It turned out to be more of a statement than a question.

Justin considered trying to be for Ethan who he'd been for everyone else, but decided he owed the guy more. "No. I'm not."

"I didn't think so." Ethan nodded. "Could I have helped?"

"You did help." Justin assured him.

"Are you sure I didn't... maybe, make it worse?"

"No. Sooner maybe, but not worse."

Ethan felt some small measure of relief at that. But his glance at Justin's face made sure the relief was short lived. "When are you coming back?"

Justin didn't want to think that far ahead. "I'm not sure exactly."

_"Are _you coming back?"

Justin laughed a little. "I'm not sure exactly." But he wasn't entirely joking, just as he suspected Ethan wasn't either.

"I bet you're not advertising this fact." Ethan didn't expect a reply to that. "You'll email?"

"Of course."

"What did you do about Michael and the comic?"

"He agreed to everything _and _he apologized."

"What was his pitiful excuse?"

Justin smiled. "He said he knew it was lame, but that he was jealous sometimes, and couldn't seem to help looking out for Brian before anyone else - even himself."

"Well, that's fucked." Ethan couldn't imagine living like that.

"He's okay and he actually likes me, you know. It's just that he still defines himself first and foremost as Brian Kinney's best friend. He knows that about himself, he just doesn't know how to stop. And he doesn't really want to most of the time."

"Baby, you know some weird ass people."

"Tell me about it."

"Was everybody sad to see you leave? Give you any grief about Brian or anything?"

"Nah." Justin shrugged. "They kept trying to give me money though. Christ, even Michael tried to slip me $50 for _emergencies._"

Ethan shook his head. "Well, you make sure to avoid those, okay?"

"That's the plan."

"You going to see Brian?"

"That's _not _the plan." Justin assured him.

"I can't believe you haven't spoken to him."

"I wrote him."

"Ah yes, but unless the incredible Mr. Kinney has psychic abilities in addition to the many other fine qualities you assure me he possesses, then he cannot read it from over a dozen blocks away." Ethan assured him. "My understanding is that one actually _gives _the letter to someone when they expect them to read it. Strange, I know."

"Are you done?"

"Give me a minute." Ethan pretended to consider. "Other than to reiterate the whole sarcasm with respect to his finer qualities - yeah, I'm done."

"Maybe I'll mail it."

"Bullshit." Ethan disagreed. "Maybe you'll leave it in that stupid copy of Q_ueen of the Damned_, charmingly ironic by the way, and you'll find it years from now and realize how cowardly you were about the whole thing."

"It isn't just cowardice, Ethan." Justin tried once more to explain. "I know how it would play out and it wouldn't end well. Brian doesn't want to know what I have to say - trust me. And trying to make him hear makes me... tired. I just need to be away from everything until I'm not tired any more."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Forget I said anything about him." Ethan looked down at his hands for a minute then looked at Justin and grinned. "So - you got enough money?"

xxxx

As he waited in the New York terminal for his flight to Amsterdam, he reflected on the amazing restraint his mother had shown today. She'd been up when he got back from his run this morning, but hadn't said anything except that she thought him wise to be up early in case he'd forgotten anything, and what would he like for breakfast.

When they'd reached the airport she was equally efficient and they had Justin organized in no time; his baggage checked through all the way so he didn't have to claim it in New York. "Molly, kiss your brother, he has to go." Jennifer carefully reviewed Justin one more time before watching him go through security. "Now honey, you've got everything, right?"

"Yes, Mom."

"And I have a photocopy of your passport and your travelers cheques, so give call me if you have any problems at all, okay?"

"I won't have any problems, Mom, but okay."

"Have a great time, Justin. I'll miss you." Jennifer's mask of cheerful mother slipped for just a moment and tears filled her eyes for reasons she wasn't sure she could put name to. "And please take good care of yourself, honey."

Justin promised he would for the umpteenth time since he'd announced he was going. No one seemed to have much confidence in his ability to do so if they felt it necessary to keep reminding him. It's not as though he set about deliberately _not _taking care of himself; he did the best he could - just like everyone else.

He wondered if perhaps a good step in that direction might be the trip itself. He already felt a tingle of excitement and a little bit of...something else. Familiar, but nothing he could describe in words. As he heard them make the first boarding call and got up to get in line, he looked around him and hoped there were no babies on the flight. As he scanned the lounge he caught sight of a tall brunette with his back to him that looked very like Brian.

God, in a few more minutes he could stop doing that, for a while at least. For weeks now, every time he turned around he thought he saw Brian. It was driving him crazy and part of the appeal of a trip was that his brain could maybe relax and stop being so keyed up, _waiting _to see the man again. Maybe it would remember what it used to function like before he constantly searched his surroundings for a pair of hazel eyes that burned into his like no others.

As he turned away, handed his boarding card to the flight attendant and made his way down the walkway to the plane, Justin wondered briefly if the time difference might aid him in his promise to look after himself. If it were six hours ahead in Europe, he might actually be able to sort out his sleep schedule to something approaching normal. He could really go for sleeping in until nine o'clock.

xxxx

0 ~ The Fool

The fool is an innocent that embraces whatever life brings. His open mind, the sincerity of his motives and his overall exuberance leave not much room for fear. He possesses imagination, creativity and the innate wisdom of a child and like a child, rushes in without hesitation. He trusts his instincts. Sometimes, depending where it falls in a spread, the fool can indicate that you are pushing too far, too fast.

In a reading he usually indicates a fresh start, a new beginning or a quest of some kind. It has to do with taking risks or doing things that may shock people, but the fool is generally indifferent to the criticism of others. He believes all things are possible and rarely worries about consequences. He samples everything that's out there and everything he experiences leads him to a better understanding of who he is and what he believes.


	3. The Magician

This was bullshit. Brian was a partner now, and partners did not pitch potential clients in airports just because, "...you'll be there; he'll be there - it's kismet." Christ, he needed to set some ground rules with Vance ASAP. For the last month or so he'd been very keen to travel consistently and do some rainmaking on behalf of Vanguard, but that meant fancy restaurants, five-star hotels, 24-hour room service and all the anonymous ass he could fuck. It did not mean schmoozing a client they'd had no preliminary contact with, in the middle of La Guardia's fucking VIP lounge ...on a fucking Saturday! This was insane.

No - _he _was insane. Deep down he knew the reason Vance had been able to talk him into flying home today instead of last night, and spending over half an hour _coincidentally _bumping into and chatting up the Chairman and CEO of Michaud Industries. He knew why he suddenly found it preferable to be working from the road most of the last month, when actually he'd never felt more tired in his life. He'd officially become a type A, lunch skipping, stressed out, no life workaholic.

It was just that...no... he would _not _ascribe it to that fucking little twink. Jesus - he'd finally gotten to a place professionally that was far more senior than his age would normally permit and he had no time for distractions. He needed to keep his eyes on his career right now, instead of constantly seeking a pair of blue ones that he'd always thought really saw him ...in ways no one else could.

Just now in the mirror over the bar, for example, he could swear he saw a fair head the exact shade of his lov...no, of _Justin's _hair. He was someone else's lover now and Brian had to remember that. Maybe after reminding himself often enough, he'd get over this craziness of thinking he saw him everywhere. Felt him everywhere. Smelled him... got that little tingle in his belly like he had now. The one that usually told him...here comes trouble - of the best and blondest kind. He looked back at his companion and tried to pretend that the stories of old vineyards and why mold was not always bad for grapes fascinated him.

"...don't you agree?"

"Absolutely - a classic year. I've had opportunity to try several '89 Bordeaux. Although I do have a few bottles of 1990 Petrus and I feel it was almost as good a year."

"I must tell you Monsieur Kinney, that I am amazed at, shall we say, your multi-tasking abilities."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh please don't think I mind, but it is quite obvious to me that while you may have absorbed my remarks of the past half hour and formulated thoughtful responses, you, for all intents and purposes, haven't heard a word I've said."

"Monsieur Michaud, I'm sorry if I gave the impression I..."

"Gilles, please. And it is I who apologize. It was rude of me to point it out."

"Forgive me Gilles, if I'm confused as to what exactly you _are _pointing out."

"Just that, while it is kind of you to humor me by listening to stories of my pet hobby, you are obviously miles away mentally, and you seem almost to be looking for someone." The distracted, but polished, businessman he had fallen into conversation with intrigued Michaud.

"I assure you, listening to stories that involve fine wine is never a chore, and I'm not looking for anyone." Brian wished with all his heart that it were true.

Gilles Michaud had not become one of France's, indeed, one of Europe's most prominent businessmen without learning to read people and to discern whether they were being truthful with him. While he knew that the urbane Brian Kinney wasn't exactly lying, he was certain the man was indeed looking for someone - whether he realized it or not. "Just so. It was my mistake, Mr. Kinney. I apologize again."

"Brian - and no apology necessary." Michaud was far too perceptive for Brian's taste, which made him feel foolish about the mission Vance had talked him into. He might wish to avoid Pittsburgh, but this was getting ridiculous. He was starting to like this man and he suspected Michaud was too smart for his usual bullshit. He resolved to tell Vance that the next time he wanted to ambush a potential client, he could goddamn well do it himself. "I think you've just picked up on some preoccupation on my part. I had several meetings this week and, regardless of what else I might be doing at the time, I tend work on problems in the back of my mind until I come up with a game plan. It's a terrible habit, I know."

"One that has at least a few exceptions I hope." Michaud smiled indulgently. "You're a young man Brian, you mustn't let work consume you too wholly, although your dedication is admirable. I hope half my executives have it."

"Given that your company ranked seventh of the top 10 emerging companies of Europe, I suspect that you have nothing to worry about."

"Nothing perhaps, except throwing our hat into the North American ring." Gilles let his frustration with this trip show a little. "I too, had several meetings in New York which, I am disappointed to say, felt like a waste of time.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but a man of your capabilities will come up with plan B, I'm sure."

"I appreciate your confidence in me, Brian." Gilles laughed. "Not to mention your impressive knowledge of my company." He was reasonably sure there was more to this, but couldn't put his finger on what it might be. "And _your _business - it has you flying now to...?"

"Pittsburgh, actually." Brian grimaced. "Home of Andy Carnegie, Andy Warhol, Mr. Rogers... and me." Brian decided enough was enough. There were certain things he had become unwilling to do in the name of success, and this was becoming one of them. "To which, sadly, I shall be returning shortly." He looked at his watch and figured that if he got going soon, he could catch the next shuttle back.

"I'm not familiar with this Mr. Rogers. What does he do?"

Brian laughed, realizing that, although the man was extremely well traveled, Mr. Rogers' neighborhood wasn't likely to be on his itinerary. "He was in the business of warping young minds on television when I was a child. You aren't missing much."

Gilles smiled. "Ah yes - I know this Rogers, of course. The lovely fellow with the dreadful clothes and the bad hair; constantly changed his shoes and jacket. Quite obsessive-compulsive, really."

Brian laughed deeply for what felt like the first time in...he didn't know how long. "That's the one! How did you know?"

"I went to school in Boston for a time in the early seventies, and he was on one of the few channels I got. I used to watch television and practice speaking without an accent."

Went to school in Boston indeed. The man was clearly no braggart - that was certain, because Brian knew perfectly well the man had degrees from at least two North American Universities, Harvard being one. "Now that I've ensured your familiarity with most of Pittsburgh's claims to fame - I really should be going." Brian was enjoying the man's company, but had no wish to continue doing Vance's dirty work. "It's been a pleasure, Gilles."

"Likewise." Michaud returned. "By the way - you never mentioned - what exactly do you do?"

"Advertising."

"Is that so? I had despaired that all American advertising people were rather on the gauche side." Gilles smiled. "And you don't strike me as nearly unscrupulous enough."

"Trust me, Gilles - there are those who would give you a good argument to the contrary." Brian ruefully admitted.

"I find that hard to believe." Michaud was sure there was more to this man than met the eye and he found himself sorry he wouldn't know him better. In spite of what he guessed had to be easily a 20-year age difference, he thought they might have been ...not friends exactly... since something told him this man had few actual friends... but at least _friendly. _"Well despite my lack of conviction in the plausibility of your membership in that dreadful race known here as '_ad-men_', I trust that your business here will conclude more auspiciously than mine, Brian."

"All but the last bit, yes." Brian gave his trademark devilish grin "My asshole of a senior partner talked me into ambushing a potential client while he waited for his plane. How's that for unscrupulous?". He stood, picked up his suit bag and began to walk away and remarked over his shoulder, "I plan to tell him to fuck off when I get back. Surely _that _ought to qualify me as reasonably gauche. Have a safe flight, Monsieur." The last thing Brian heard as he walked away was Gilles Michaud's boisterous laughter.

_xxxx_

Michael had been a little dubious of his reception, but Brian had let him in and agreed, albeit reluctantly, to take a night off from working and come out dancing instead. Well, out fucking more than likely, but social intercourse was social intercourse. Michael wasn't prepared to get picky, since he hadn't seen much of Brian lately. No one had with any frequency - for reasons that were better left uncommented on in the man's presence, as Michael had discovered the hard way.

He thought back to the day after Justin's infamous walk out on the Avenue's most legendary lothario. Brian had shown up for breakfast the next morning the same as always, but Justin's absence had been more obvious than his presence and Brian had looked like shit.

Ted and Emmett stopped acting mysterious long enough to glance at Brian and everyone silently screamed _somebody please say something_, each of them wild with curiosity over the man's lack of acknowledgment.

Michael, his sensible better half not there to advise him, had looked over at the other two as if to say, _Okay - I'm going in_, and then recklessly did just that. "So...where's the Boy Wonder this morning?"

Brian's continued silence combined with his pointed glare should have made Michael hesitate, if not retreat entirely. But Debbie Novotny's son could hardly be expected to escape the gene for meddling. "The ungrateful little shit - I can't believe he just walked out like that."

Michael had clearly not seen the twitching of Brian's jaw muscle or he would've known not only to shut the hell up, but perhaps to run and hide as well. "I mean...what the fuck did he think he was doing last night?"

The fact that Brian's answer was uttered sotto voce, might have made it seem as though the danger were minimal - unless you knew him. "Stay the _fuck _out of it, Michael."

"Brian, I only..."

"I mean it. If you plan on bringing this up again, don't bother talking to me at all." Brian stared at him intently. "Have I made myself clear?"

Emmett and Ted both stifled the urge to say _yes sir_, and settled for merely looking sympathetically at their fallen comrade. Brian put down his cup, rose and stalked out of the diner without a backward glance.

"Well..." Ted had commented once they'd regained powers of speech. "That was predictably rude. At least we know his personality hasn't been affected."

Newly in-love Emmett was feeling kindly towards just about everyone - even Brian. "Oh Teddy, don't be mean. He's obviously upset." There was a pause and finally, the gossip in him couldn't help make its presence known. "I wish I had been there to see the drama unfold."

"Oh really?" Ted had inquired with a smirk in his voice. "What kept you from it?"

"I was... otherwise engaged."

Emmett actually blushed, something Michael hadn't seen in ages. He didn't have the patience for their secrets, however; he was too pissed. "Well, Brian wouldn't be upset if Justin hadn't been _otherwise engaged_ with some fucking fiddler with a cockroach under his lip."

"What?!" Both his companions had cried.

"You know something!" Ted burst out at the same time as Emmett's "How could you not dish?"

"I don't know anything except that Justin has been cheating on Brian - probably for weeks." Michael had been furious just thinking about it.

"Cheating? How is that even possible?" Emmett pointed out. "All those two _do _is fuck around."

"Yeah, Michael." Ted agreed. "I mean, calling their relationship open, is like calling the Grand Canyon a ditch."

"It doesn't matter." Michael had stubbornly insisted. "They had rules and Justin broke them."

"Honey, I think maybe there's more going on here than any of us can see at the moment." Emmett knew both parties too well to believe the situation was that simple.

"Well what I _saw _was Justin kissing his fiddle player in the middle of the street and what I _know _is that Brian called twice last week thinking that Justin was with me."

"Maybe so," Emmett conceded. "But Brian isn't an easy person to deal with - you of all people ought to know that."

Ted backed him up. "Definitely. And this hasn't exactly been an easy year for Justin. He's had a lot to deal with."

Michael softened a little at that. He knew that as Justin's art for the comic reflected what had happened to him, it also reflected that the kid was still pretty torn up. He remembered that when they had first begun to work together Justin had lamented not being able to talk about things. Michael had been as guilty as the rest of treating the teen like everything was normal, when of course it couldn't possibly have been. "Maybe so, but he should still have told Brian what was going on."

Emmett started to have a bad feeling about this. "How did the selectively perceptive Mr. Kinney find out, anyway?"

Michael didn't respond and simply stared guiltily into his coffee cup.

"Tell me you didn't." Emmett shook his head. "Michael...that was..."

"Unwise." Ted supplied.

"And probably unfair." Emmett continued.

"But..."

"But nothing." Emmett was firm. "You should have stayed out of it." Once he had taken a look at Michael's hangdog expression he felt a little sorry for him too. "Sweetie, I know you meant well, but Brian can look out for Brian. Honestly."

Ted agreed. "And despite alleged appearances to the contrary, I think Justin probably looks out for Brian pretty well too - but sometimes a person has to look out for themselves first. It's hard being the only one trying to make a relationship work."

Michael protested. "We don't know that's what was going on..."

"No, we don't." Emmett agreed. "That's my point; we don't really know anything about what is, or was, going on."

"I guess not." Michael conceded.

"Right. What we do know is that they are both our friends and maybe we should just stay neutral and be there for either of them if they need us."

"Justin has somebody else to be there for him now." Michael was still a little bitter. He simply couldn't understand how Justin could do this. If it were _he _with Brian, he would...but he wasn't with Brian. Maybe that was what had him so bent out of shape. He liked Justin, he really did. What's more he had trusted him. Michael had finally made Justin an equal partner in looking after what he assumed both of them thought of as something valuable. Though he couldn't explain it, he felt that Justin had let him down too and he was angry.

He understood that Brian must be angry, too - maybe that's why he'd gone off on him. Sort of a shoot the messenger type of thing. Or it could be that Emmett and Ted were right - perhaps he should've kept his mouth shut and let them work it out themselves. Either way, he resolved that whenever he saw Brian again, for once he would do as the man said and just leave it alone.

The next time they had gotten together it was as if the whole thing had never taken place. Brian had become caught up in work over the last several weeks, but they had seen each other. Breakfast with the gang occasionally - when he wasn't away on business. A night out at Babylon here and there - since even the newly career driven Brian Kinney had to get his dick sucked.

So Michael had been hopeful that after having been gone again last week and no mention yet of another trip, that Brian would be ready to unwind a bit and come out with the boys tonight. They were going to Woody's first to shoot a little pool and Michael was hoping for a relaxing evening. The last few times they'd been out, Brian had seemed almost like his old self. He joked, he insulted, he ditched them every so often in favor of the back room. It was business as usual, or so it seemed.

At first Michael had waited for Brian to give some outward sign of what he felt sure had to be inner turmoil, but there were none. Brian drugged and drank, but not any more than he used to - not like when Justin was hurt. And he fucked, but not with the vengeance it sometimes took on when he was trying to drown himself in it. If you didn't know any better, you might think he was just fine with how it everything had played out. But Michael was pretty sure he knew better - he just couldn't do anything about it. Not this time.

"Where are dumb and dumber?" Brian's question snapped Michael out of his reverie.

"Hopefully on their way to Woody's, like we should be." He did not want to set Brian off, but a good friend would at least make the effort to ensure he was all right. Or as all right as Brian ever was. "Listen, don't take my head off, but ...how are you doing?"

Brian barely acknowledged the question. "I'm just peachy."

Michael rolled his eyes and almost gave up in frustration. "Look, I just want to make sure everything is ...okay."

Brian turned and raised his eyebrow. "Well, Vance and I had a little spat week before last because I let a big account slip through my fingers. He seemed to think that eight new clients in half as many days wasn't good enough. Apparently, I was to pull that one out of my hat as well. Let's see...the idiot twins may be long gone, but Vance hired the bungler brothers to take their place. Also, Cynthia informs me that some big mouth in payroll has let other assistants know what I pay her and sooner or later Vance is going to have some irate subordinates demanding raises - something I am certain he will blame me for..."

"I wasn't asking about work, asshole and you know it."

"Well then, what _were_ you asking about?" Brian narrowed his eyes.

Any thought that Brian might be over the whole Justin thing and safe to approach about it fled when Michael took in his friend's changed demeanor. "Just... you know... life and stuff I guess."

"Life, Michael, is proceeding apace." Brian informed him and hoped the man had the sense to drop it.

Michael shook his head and gave up. There was no point in pushing because Brian was certain to push back - hard. "We should do the same. I don't want to keep Ted and Emmett waiting."

"No no, God forbid they had to sit there alone together because you know how they hate that."

"Be nice. I think it's sweet that they've found each other."

"Too bad they didn't get lost first." Brian smiled at Michael's scowl. "Come on, Mikey. Let's not keep the lovebirds waiting - Cynthia fed me a hideous sandwich before leaving the office and I'd be just as happy to toss it back up."

Michael couldn't help but laugh at Brian's crass humor as he accompanied the man out the door. Now that he'd lightened him up a little, he thought maybe he'd try just one more time. "Brian listen, about...uh...I just..."

"Mikey?" Brian locked the door, set the alarm and turned to his friend.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember when we were kids and I accidentally ran over you with my bicycle?" Brian put his arm around his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah."

"I drive a jeep now."

"Understood."

_xxxx_

I ~ The Magician

He creates reality through his will and imagination. As an alchemist and transformer he epitomizes the ability to translate ideas into action. He relies on self-confidence, power and determination to see him through. The astrological counterpart to this card is Mercury - the planet of mental agility and quickness.

In a reading, seemingly magical influences come into your life and solutions to your most pressing problems present themselves. Synchronicities seem to point to greater order and organization. Although the results can take time to manifest, synchronicities begin their work and set a course.


	4. The High Priestess

"So you _really_ told him to do... um, you know... that?"

"Uh huh."

"And he just, what? Did..._it _- with no hesitation."

"Yep."

"What the fuck do you _say_ to these guys?"

There's an almost sincere looking version of his usual, sly grin. "Well, Mikey...this information in the wrong hands could do serious damage, but since it's you - I..."

"You want a refill, honey?" The loud and vexatious snap of gum accompanies the ill-timed inquiry. Get out of the way and be quiet you _silly_ boy; he was just about to say the magic words. I peer around in an effort to at least see an accompanying hand gesture that Liberty Avenue's prevailing stud may employ on his prey, but this wretched lad moves again and continues both snapping and talking, curse him. "See, I'm closing out now...so you could order, then I'll bring you the bill. You can start another tab with your new server."

"Fine, fine - yes, another." Anything - just get out of the way and be silent. Well? Why are they not talking? Why are they just standing there? Did he say it? _Did he say it_?

"Huh." The shorter of the two with the nice ass seems a little perplexed, but nods slightly. "And that's really all it takes?" Damn, I've missed it. All the oracles in the world will not unlock the mystery of attraction's whys and wherefores. I had rather been hoping to hear it from the horse's mouth.

"It's all in the delivery, Mikey." There is that lazy smile again. "All in the delivery."

"Ah." Brown-eyes clearly considers asking to hear the magic tone, but doesn't. "I think I'll take your word for it."

Yes, do that, dear boy. I suspect you're better off not hearing that particular _delivery, _since it's as close as you're likely to get to the actual event. The only one he really wants to use it on isn't around to hear it anymore. And despite his customary comportment, your intrepid hero is rather forlorn over it.

I could help him of course, if I chose to. I guess I just have to wonder if it would be worth it to try. He is certain to disbelieve me, and even less likely to actually appreciate it. So why bother?

Well, 'tis a thankless task, true, but the Aquarian in me persists in making the effort. I shuffle a moment and ask what he needs to know right now - what will aid him most in going forward. I pull a card and it's the third one of the major Arcana - the High Priestess. Hmm...why yes... of course. The image of the card seems to change shape for me as I stare into it and see what I need to know for now.

As I watch them finish their game, the cute one, Michael it is, asks about a possible change in venue. "Should we play again or do you guys want to head over to Babylon?"

Oh dear. Oh no, they really _mustn't _do that just yet. The beautiful one, Brian, he has a lesson here tonight, I feel sure. It may give him some perspective he badly needs just now. A small secret that, known, could open the door to a possibility he made himself think had ceased to exist. Or, as he prefers to believe, never existed at all.

The tallish lad with the hot-pink, mesh shirt seems to be debating. "Mmmm...I was really hoping to have another Crantini. They still don't serve them at Babylon."

The shorter, thin man who bought his friend a reading once, he clearly wants the tall lad to have whatever he desires. "Fine, we'll stay then."

"_We_ could still go Brian; you want to?"

Stay stay _stay! _I can't help it - I have to intercede. Fate needs a little kick in the ass from time to time, so I decide to interrupt. "Tell you what boys, I'm enjoying watching you; so rack up one more and I'll offer the winning team free readings."

"Ooh - yes- what fun!" I knew I could count on the pretty, tall one currently clapping and bouncing to sell this for me. Sell indeed! Who would have thought I'd ever give it away for free. "Come on, Michael - please? " He begs his friend.

"Sure, okay. Brian?"

A roll of hazel eyes and a shake of chestnut hair accompanies the blasé, "Whatever."

"Yes!" The tall boy is pleased, clearly. "Michael - you and me against Ted and Brian this time."

As they begin their game, I am relieved. Another thirty minutes or so ought to do it. I'm usually very precise about these things. Well, fairly in the neighborhood at least. And I had told the truth; I do enjoy watching them. They are an interesting little circle of people.

Of course, so is nearly everyone else. Liberty Avenue is rife with little dramas that find their way to my attention sooner or later. Each compelling in its own way and each a little slice of what makes up life in general. I enjoy them all equally for the most part, and what holds my attention depends entirely upon my mood.

Right now my attention is on seeing that the beautiful Brian continues his journey. He doesn't know it yet, but his Sunshine has started a journey of his own, both literal and figurative. One that Brian has a part to play in. Tonight might help him see that, although it won't take shape just yet, of course. Tonight is but one piece in a much larger puzzle. I too, am a small piece, but also a significant one it's hoped. No matter - we'll soon find out. For now, I simply sit back to enjoy their banter and to wait.

xxxx

"I can't believe you're letting him take a blow-job break in the middle of the game." Ted rolled his eyes in disgust.

"He might have _actually _gone to the bathroom, you know." Naturally, Michael defended his friend. "Besides - I don't want to give him a hard time now that I finally got him out. He's been kind of difficult to get a hold of these days."

"Oh really? I thought one just drew a pentagram on the floor and chanted '_I summon thee'_ three times." Ted couldn't help himself.

"Knock it off. He's upset about Justin, I can tell."

Emmett shook his head a little. "I don't know, sweetie. He seems pretty normal to me. Granted, it may be a little put on, but if he really loved Justin, don't you think that when it finally came down to it, he would have asked him to stay?"

"No." Michael shook his head sadly. "I think he would do exactly what he has done and push him away." He felt guilty now over his part in the breakup. "And I helped him do it. You guys were right, I should never have said anything."

Ted was curious. "Well, someone's humming a different tune; when did the sheet music change?"

"Mostly when we talked about him continuing the comic." Michael explained. "He was just so fucking _nice _about it. Then I thought about the times I know he tried to give Brian and me time alone...how he understands that I'm Brian's best friend and doesn't make it hard for that to continue. One time he even made sure that it did." Michael paused. "I suppose I just over-reacted about Ethan. I mean, even though I know how difficult Brian can be, I guess I expected Justin to hang in there anyway and I was ...kind of pissed that he just gave up."

"I know, baby." Emmett understood. "I think we all expected him to be capable of things no kid of nineteen should even have to think about."

"He just seemed so... resilient, you know?" Ted shrugged.

"Well I, for one, am glad he went away for a bit." Emmett was philosophical about it. "It'll give him some perspective."

"You're right." Ted agreed. I think a little break from all the _sturm und drang_ is just what the doctor ordered. Has he mentioned anything about his trip so far?"

"Mmm...a bit here and there. I get the impression he isn't interested in anyone knowing exactly where he is all the time." Michael offered. "I've only had two emails from him, but the latest disc of sketches he did was fantastic, although a little depressing."

There was silence as everyone thought about the conditions under which Justin had agreed to continue illustrating Rage.

"He wrote me about the sex museum in Amsterdam." Emmett thought of something to make them all laugh. "I have a picture he scanned of him hugging a giant penis in the lobby of the place. It's taller than he is."

"Now _that's _something I'd like to see." Ted was impressed.

"What's something you'd like to see?"

No one had noticed Brian returning and Emmett was the only one to think fast. "Uh...me... dressed up in PVC chaps, wearing a rhinestone collar, and brandishing a black leather riding crop." Emmett didn't think _well _of course, just fast.

Brian laughed and shook his head. "You know Theodore, it's men like you who give perversion a bad name. Someday you're gonna..." He trailed off and turned his head as something in the doorway caught his attention.

"Going to what?" Ted asked. "Finally hear you utter a civil word? I expect to eat pussy first."

"Teddy!" Emmett exclaimed, giving his arm a swat. "Mustyou be so vulgar?"

Michael stopped listening to his friends and followed Brian's gaze to a guy who'd just walked in. He was a little on the short side and though not unattractive, was hardly anything special. He couldn't imagine that Brian had singled him out as the evening's main attraction considering there were plenty of fuckable guys here, at least one of whom had to be virgin territory - so to speak. He turned to Brian and sought an explanation. "What's up?"

"That's Kip Thomas."

"Who?" Emmett inquired, now done scolding his lover.

Michael couldn't believe it. "_That's_ him?"

Brian nodded.

"Jesus - I thought he left town after recanting everything." Ted had heard the whole sordid story from Melanie. She said that other than the Guillaume fiasco - it was one of the few times she felt good about siding with Brian.

Emmett made a frustrated face. "And once again with the _who_?"

"Sorry Em. He's the guy from Brian's bogus lawsuit last year." Ted explained.

"Oohhh." Emmett nodded understanding. "Huh. For all the trouble he caused, I expected him to be a lot hotter than that. Maybe he's better close up."

"Looks like we're about to find out." Ted looked to Brian for any reaction. "He appears to be headed this way."

Kip, seemingly oblivious to his former fuck and friends, made to go right by them to the bar. That is, until he got within earshot of Brian.

"Well... look who it is. Come to try fucking your way to a better job again?" Brian taunted.

Kip made a face that suggested more confidence than he was entitled to, and continued on his way to the bar. Brian, however, was hardly one to forgive and forget, and called after the man. "The last I heard, you were in Philly... barely one step up from the mailroom at HBM."

"They downsized...and I was in distribution, asshole." Kip turned and replied. "Besides - the last _I_ heard, you got dumped... by a teenager."

All eyes were trained on Brian, but he appeared calm. "The rock you crawled out from under is so far from where I exist - I doubt you know anything about me."

"Yeah? Well, I know this..." Kip remained undaunted. "Any kid you could talk into fucking someone over for you like that was eventually going to fuck _you_ over too. I guess it just took a little longer than I thought."

Brian was nonplussed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Give up the innocent act, Kinney." Kip sneered. "So I didn't know 17 was legal until after I'd already called off the suit; you won that round, all right? But I was just trying to get ahead. At least I'd never use my underage boyfriend to fight my battles. Pretty fucking pathetic if you ask me."

"What _are _you babbling about?" Brian still confused, was starting to get a sick feeling about this. "You tried to use me and you lost - end of story."

"_You're_ the user." Kip leaned in and pointed at Brian, oblivious to the giant, economy size can of worms he'd just opened. "A user who taught junior to be just like him. And now he's used _you _- and thrown you away, just like you do to everyone else. It serves you right and I'm only sorry I wasn't there to see it. The great Brian Kinney ... publicly humiliated by some cheap, little piece of ass - it must have been beautiful. _He _certainly was - sweetest cock I ever had in my mouth...maybe now that he's ditched you, he's ready for greener, not to mention younger, pastures... maybe I'll just..."

Kip never got to finish whatever filth he was about to spew because Brian finally snapped, and before anyone could shake off the stupor induced by these revelations, Brian had thrown the man against the pool table and begun to beat the living shit out of him.

Ted was the first to come to his senses. Unfortunately, he was also the first casualty of the evening. He rushed to separate the struggling men, but before completing his heroic task, tripped on Brian's errant pool cue and wound up face first on the floor.

Emmett checked on his embarrassed lover, before aiding Michael and one of the bouncers in pulling Kip and Brian apart. Unheard by all but the man it was intended for, Emmett whispered a command and the bouncer promptly escorted Kip out of the bar, while Michael held fast to Brian, uttering calming words as though they might actually help. They didn't, of course, and Michael finally let Brian go once the man assured him he simply wanted to step out the back door for some air and to cool off.

While Michael wrapped some ice in a towel for Ted's nose, Brian opened the fire door and stepped into the alley behind the building. He lit a cigarette as he found himself stalking up and down the narrow space. What the fuck _was _that back there? How had he let that contemptible asshole get to him with his bullshit and his lies. Of course they were lies...they had to be. Because if they weren't...if Thomas was implying what Brian thought he was...well, it just didn't bear thinking about.

Jesus - it wasn't possible was it? Justin hadn't even met Kip. Had Kip followed him - maybe seen him at Babylon with Justin? Yes, that had to be it. He'd seen them together and decided to try and piss Brian off after hearing recent gossip. Well, it had worked and Brian had succeeded in giving tonight's crowd yet one more thing to talk about.

Despite the fact that he'd come up with a logical explanation for Kip's knowledge of Justin's presence - make that former presence - in his life, Brian couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more to this. He never had received an explanation for Kip's abrupt withdrawal of allegations. And how had Thomas known Justin's age at the time? That was actually something that was _not _common knowledge around Liberty, for a variety of reasons.

He couldn't stand not knowing, so although he'd avoided all mention of Justin's name, nevermind actually seeing the boy, Brian intended to ask him what the hell he knew about this. He'd go see Justin this week and if he didn't linger too long, he was sure he could manage to keep up the frosty facade. It shouldn't take much to get some answers.

Regardless of any difficulties between them, Brian had felt an overwhelming need to be sure Justin was safe when he'd first left the loft and he'd easily found out where Justin and his little fiddler lived. He discovered that although it was strictly starving student digs, it was in a safe neighborhood with well-lit streets. He didn't need to worry about Justin walking back from school past crack houses or anything.

School... now there was a good idea; he'd see him on the pretense of making sure he had enough money for school next year and bring him a cheque. He'd promised to loan Justin the money to continue his education and their relationship status had not been a factor in that agreement. Brian always kept his promises - which is why he so rarely made them. Now he had the perfect excuse to see the kid _and _put him on the defensive right away, thus making sure the balance of power was tipped in Brian's favor. Then he'd get the truth.

He paused in his pacing to discover that he'd quickly gone though one cigarette and was unconsciously pulling out another. Ah yes, when in doubt - chain smoke. He stilled a moment to fumble with his lighter in the faint breeze. As he did so, he heard a voice carried on it from around the corner. He felt the hackles rise and made ready to attack the speaker once again, until he heard an answering voice he also recognized, menacing in a tone that he did not.

"Listen carefully you worthless, badly aging, wannabe twink." Emmett spoke in a voice one imagined as being reserved for the sort of people who kick puppies. "Stay the fuck away from Brian, or I guarantee...bad things will happen to you. In fact, I highly recommend a change of scene. Somewhere out of the state preferably, but certainly out of the city - and fast."

Brian couldn't see it, but given his experience with the little prick, he could imagine the dubious look on Kip's face and judging from Emmett's next comments, Brian's mental image was tolerably on target.

"I see you doubt my ability to enforce my...suggestion." Emmett took on a conspiratorial tone. "Even if I couldn't..." Sound of a body being slammed against an immovable object. "...And let me assure you that I can...I am on _very _friendly terms with most, if not all the bouncers from several charming, local establishments. Not only will they be pleased to throw your sorry ass the hell out of any club you try to get laid in, I feel sure they'd be happy to add their...encouragement towards a speedy relocation on your part. Or perhaps to speedily relocate certain of your parts. Am I making myself clear?"

Although he couldn't see the weasely little fuck, Kip's voice suggested to Brian, that his expression was no longer one of confidence, and might well be approaching fear, certainly regret. "What the fuck do you care? The guy's an asshole who deserves what he gets."

"That _asshole _is my friend, and all he's getting...is you out of his face and out of his life." The steel in Emmett's voice never wavered. "Now get lost - permanently." The sound of footsteps walking away was halted briefly by Emmett's final thoughts. "And by the way? That goes double for Justin. Because contrary to how Brian might seem, I suspect my threats would pale in comparison to what he'll do to you if you so much as think about the kid."

The footsteps continued their departure at a somewhat hurried pace, as Brian stood rooted to the spot, taking in all he had overheard. For some reason he didn't want Emmett to know he'd been there, at least aurally, for this little scene. He stubbed out his cigarette, turned around and walked back down the alley and into the bar.

As he emerged from the back, he saw Michael sitting with a still sanguineous Ted, holding a makeshift ice pack to his face. "Stop moving, Ted. That's why it won't stop bleeding."

"Led go Bichael...I can do id byself." Ted took the towel away and held it to his nose.

"Teddy...here let me help you..." Emmett had returned and in all the drama no one asked him where he had been.

Ted allowed his lover to assist him and soon his nose was a little swollen, but mostly fine. He stopped tilting his back and asked, "Well - where is the little fucker? Is everything all right?"

"He was..." Brian glanced at Emmett for just a moment. "...removed."

"Oh." Ted almost seemed disappointed. "Well, should we do anything? I mean, that was pretty slanderous stuff."

"Everything is fine." Brian shook his head. "But thanks for the offer - it's good to know that if trouble rears its sinister head, Captain Blood Loss will be on the job... then the floor."

"Funny, asshole." Ted grimaced and touched his tender nose.

"What happened to you, Em?" Clearly Michael had noticed his friend's brief absence after all. "You weren't cowering under a table somewhere were you?"

"Me? I laugh in the face of danger!" Emmett assured him. "Of course, then I hide until it goes away."

Brian shook his head at Emmett's lie, but said nothing. "Speaking of going away - why don't you guys get out of here."

"Brian, I don't think..."

"Exactly..." His friend said, but not unkindly. "Don't think...just drop these guys at home and pick me up for work by eight tomorrow."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do a little something that caught my eye in the back room, Mikey." Brian leered. "And I don't need a chaperone, okay? I'll cab it home later."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Fine, come on you guys."

Brian watched as his friends made their way out of the bar, Michael in the lead. Emmett followed, solicitously inquiring after Ted's nose while diplomatically praising his willingness to rush into the fray.

Brian sat down heavily at the now deserted table and knocked back his remaining drink, while signaling a waiter for another.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

"Excuse me?" Brian looked up at the overdone queen standing next to him.

"I wouldn't order from that particular waiter." She repeated. "In my unhappy experience, he will undoubtedly manage to bring you the wrong thing. Not to _mention _the gum snapping... it is irritating in the extreme, let me assure you." She appraised his expression a moment. "And it is my considered opinion that you've had quite enough irritation for one evening."

"Thank you for that news from the land of the obvious." Brian raised his eyebrow. "Now if you don't mind..."

"Not at all...thank you." Marilyn sat down, determined to finish what she had started.

"Look...I don't do pussy, okay?"

"Flatterer!" Marilyn smiled. "This isn't a pickup. I'm simply fulfilling my promise of a reading to the winner."

"In case you hadn't noticed what everyone else did - the game was interrupted. So... there is no winner." Brian looked at the waiter who'd brought both his bill and, as predicted, the wrong drink. "Although losers seem to abound. Look - I'm not interested in whatever you're selling, okay?"

"Listen, sweetheart..." Marilyn persisted. "Free advice may often be worth precisely what you pay for it, but hear me out."

Taking Brian's lack of response for acquiescence, she continued. "I already took the liberty of pulling a card for you and what it tells me, among other things, is that there are powerful forces at work in your life right now."

"The most powerful force in my life...is between my legs." Brian scoffed. "And _at present_...it would like to find someone to be at work _on; _so how about you disappear and let me do that?"

Marilyn's dulcet tones slipped for a moment in irritation, and the next phrase was uttered in a base voice worthy of Harvey Fierstein. "Jesus - do you _ever _just shut the fuck up and let someone else talk?"

Brian was shocked into silence for a moment and then let out a loud guffaw, gesturing for her to continue, while he tried to get control of his laughter.

"Ahem..."Marilyn smoothed her ruffled feathers and continued, euphonious intonation back in place. "...As I was saying... there's a lot going on with you right now. Things you think you understand... but you don't."

Brian gave her a bored look but didn't interrupt yet.

"And I would venture a guess that perhaps you've started to realize that, given certain recent revelations." Marilyn lowered her voice slightly and almost whispered. "You want to think he never really loved you... that you were simply a phase he outgrew..."

"What makes you think I'd want to think anything like that?" Brain found himself interrupting to ask.

Marilyn gave him an indulgent look. "Because then you wouldn't have failed. It would mean that the end was inevitable and unavoidable. Someone who is as much of a control freak as you are, my pet, could never handle the thought that they might have failed at something. So - if you can manage to convince yourself that you had no control over it, that it was merely the natural order of things, then you can be sure it wasn't your fault...and that you couldn't have kept him after all."

"Let's assume for the moment that I even know what you're talking about. " Brian acknowledged. "What makes you think I even wanted to keep this theoretical ...him."

"You don't really want me to answer that, do you?" Marilyn smiled enigmatically. "You know you hate that word."

Brian was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation and his fidgeting surely made that plain. Why he couldn't seem to get up and walk away from it was beyond him.

"However, I digress..." Marilyn saw the walls that had cracked slightly, begin to marshal their forces in an effort to repair. She plunged ahead quickly. "Now that you've let me get a word in, all I want to tell you was - go with the flow."

Brian waited expectantly then shook his head. _"That's _your great advice? _Go with the fucking flow_? I've had more meaningful fortune cookies."

"Don't be so quick to scoff." Marilyn admonished. "It's much more arduous than one might suppose. Going with the flow, or the universe's guidance, takes great effort. For someone like you especially, it is easier to try to manage every little thing yourself rather than to trust in the universe, or anyone else for that matter, to help. And you, pretty eyes, need _a lot_ of help."

Brian was immune to flattery. "You're hardly the first to suggest that."

Marilyn ignored his sarcasm and valiantly went on. "Your desperate need to control every aspect of your life and the lives around you is what causes you the most heartache. If you could just let circumstances point you in the right direction and maybe give your heart a chance to run the show instead of your head all the time, and I refer here to both of them, you might be a happier man."

"Okay, fine. Go with the flow - got it. Anything else?" Brian's brusqueness was back full force.

"Just this for now - the secret you have partially uncovered isn't the only secret being unlocked tonight. He's going to unlock one too, although unlike you - it's going to make his situation worse."

"What are you talking about?" Brian was confused. "What secret? Are you saying that scene earlier wasn't total bullshit? What do you know about it?"

"I know you're better off asking these questions of someone else." Marilyn said, getting up. "I've told you about all that's good for you, for now. Remember - just be open to where things lead you - it's not as important yet as it will be soon. Follow your hunches, act on your first reactions - in other words: go with the flow." Marilyn turned, resigned to the fact that Brian was likely to dismiss her well-intentioned remarks, but hopeful that her words would return to him when he needed them. That was all she could do.

"But..." Brian trailed off as Marilyn exited the bar. "Women! You're finally interested in talking to them and they have nothing to say - typical." With that Brian finished the rye and ginger he'd received in place of his requested double JB and mulled over what Marilyn had said. It was utter crap, of course and he had more important things to think about - namely, how he was going to keep his cool tomorrow when he was finally able to quiz Justin about Kip. He wondered where the best place to do that might be.

xxxx

"Brian!" Justin yelled, as he sat bolt upright in bed. He tried frantically to calm his breathing and ignore the sweat he could feel pouring off him in rivers. Fuck, he hated this dream - he'd had it with more frequency lately. Probably because all he had to do with his days was draw, sightsee and think. His mind didn't have enough to keep occupied, so it amused itself at night with old movies - and he was getting fairly sick of these reruns. At least he was alone this time. Occasions where he was not tended to be pretty embarrassing.

As his heart rate slowed, he realized something. This rerun had a feature the others did not. In this one - he could speak. He had never been able to do so before and it had been agony. Slow motion, close up of a seemingly huge piece of wood coming straight toward him, type agony. And for all the time it seemed to take to happen - he was unable to find any way to stop it, or call for help. Except this time.

This time he had awoken with Brian's name on his lips. Something that would occur after certain other types of dreams as well, but this one was decidedly different. In this one, he was begging Brian to save him, to come and prevent the upcoming events. And it was a relief to finally be able to do so, even though he knew it would be in vain.

He lay back down and tried to relax his body at least, if not his mind. Images flooded it that he could not dispel: Balloons and streamers fluttering among animated, young bodies. The most beautiful man he'd ever seen, come to seek him out. Daphne, her face full of delighted, bashful embarrassment. A silent look from Brian that asked - _are you ready for this_?

Then laughter and that feeling of intense joy - the kind that makes you feel it must stop or you'll burst from it, but you don't ever want it to stop. Flashing lights whirled around him. Was he spinning or was the room? It didn't matter because there were those strong arms around him again, holding him, conveying without reserve that he belonged in them.

People whispering and pointing and for once, it honestly didn't make a difference. He saw there were some - girls mainly - who were smiling at them in genuine good will. Most did, who had the sense to appreciate a truly romantic gesture of any kind. Who wouldn't applaud that?

Happiness. Affection. Love. He saw them all in Brian's eyes as the man lifted him up and kissed him, physically declaring these things in front of all present; caring what no one thought of it all, except for Justin. And what Justin thought was - _God, I love this man_.

That silly skip of a dance by the jeep, a song giggled together in joy, and his declaration that it had been 'the best night of his life'. His lover's teasing, and it's accompanying smile, told Justin that the man was glad.

Then once again, a silent look from Brian that asked - _are you ready for this_?  
And a perfect kiss that told him Brian finally might be.

Justin began to shake as he lay there in his rented bed at the Pensione. Oh Jesus. Jesus Christ...he remembered it all. Essentially, Brian _had _told him he loved him - Justin had simply forgotten it. And now - Justin had simply destroyed it.

~

**II ~ The High Priestess**: She is intuition and inspiration. She guards the gate of the unconscious and connects you to dreams, psychic powers and mysteries. Her astrological sign is Cancer, her element is water and her number is 2, which represents balance. She knows but doesn't tell. She prompts us to look within and seek our own answers.

In a reading: Something is hidden in your life. Either a secret or mystery eludes. The answer may be found in your memory or through counsel, usually of a woman. Rely more on intuition than intellect. Remain open to information that flows from your unconscious. As relates to romance it often means your significant other hasn't told you everything.


	5. The Empress

"I told you yesterday that I can't." Brian had explained this at least five times in as many minutes. However, Michael kept coming up with new ways to ask the same thing - over and over again. "I'll probably be working late tonight."

"Jesus, you're always working late!" Michael made plain his frustration. "We barely see you anymore, Brian. You've become this total workaholic."

It was true. He had. However, he felt that all things considered, the fact that he was doing anythingother than drowning himself in a bottle of JB and a tight ass every night was pretty fucking commendable. Michael wasn't giving him enough credit, but to remind him of that was to bring up something he had forbidden them all to mention. Figures that this was the one time they obeyed his wishes. The only reason he'd let Michael talk this long in the first place was in case the man inadvertently mentioned Justin coming by with the latest comic sketches or something. Clearly that wasn't going to happen. He should have figured as much when everyone managed to keep their mouths shut around him about the Kip incident. Frankly, he was a little bit surprised that Justin hadn't come to explain it all away by now. He figured that the guys' silence on the matter would extend only to him. It's not as though he'd said anything about not mentioning the incident to Justin.

Brian still hadn't gone over there. Well, he'd gone over – he just hadn't gone in. He'd sat outside their building every evening for the last five days or so, for at least half an hour, trying to will himself to enter. After a couple nights of lucky timing, he discovered that the fiddler usually left around 7:30 - for some practice or other no doubt. So he had his window of opportunity to go in, but he couldn't seem to do it.

The result was that he felt pathetic which, in turn, made him exceedingly short tempered and even more defensive than usual. "Maybe I am a workaholic, Mikey, but most of us can't just sit around all day indulging our adolescent hobby, and calling it a job." In the back of his mind, Brian knew that was pretty mean – even for him.

"Oh I don't know." Michael countered angrily, without really thinking. " Seems to me that advertising consists of manipulating people to make them want things they probably can't have. And that's been _your _favorite hobby since I met you."

Both Brian and Michael were shocked into silence for a moment by Michael's words, until Brian finally whispered. "Touché, Mikey."

"Wow." Michael gasped, not really mad anymore and assuming Brian wasn't either. After all, they had stupid fights all the time; It's just that Michael was usually the one on the losing end. "I can't believe it. That's the first time I've ever had a good comeback when I actually needed it. Cool, huh, Brian… _Brian?_"

Well this had been a snap, crackle, fuck-you sort of morning all round. He couldn't find the notes he'd made on his latest client, yelled at Cynthia for it then discovered them in his briefcase…right where he'd left them. He'd make his usual apology by way of a trip to Pittsburgh's most expensive Spa. During her tenure with him Cynthia had become a regular there.

Not that he should have to apologize in _any _fashion given that Cynthia got even by putting through a call from Michael. His best friend proceeded to berate him yet again about working so much, and then had the absolute temerity to one-up him. Asshole.

Also, moron one and moron two, the idiot twins' replacements, had brought him their pitch for the La Jeunesse 2003 skin care line, and it was beyond hideous. One look at that and the client would run screaming to another agency.

As if this weren't bad enough, Vance wanted to see him in his office right away. He was _not _in the mood for another dressing down, but he figured he might as well get it over with and got up, straightening his tie.

As he passed Cynthia's desk she warned him. "Take a deep breath and count to ten – even partners can get fired." Brian scowled while acknowledging to himself the truth of her words. Still, he'd be damned if he'd take any crap.

"Brian!" Vance greeted him with fallacious camaraderie, as though they actually liked one another. He knew for a fact that Vance would stab him in the back as soon as look at him. However, the knowledge that Brian was one of the best at what he did, likely better than Vance himself, kept him from doing so. The older man wisely supposed that if Brian were going to constantly thwart him, better he should do so working for Vanguard, instead of the competition. "How goes the battle?"

"Dismally." Brian stretched out in one of the low chairs on the other side of the desk, as though it was his own office. "Have you seen the current La Jeunesse mock ups?"

"Not good." Vance guessed.

"They are a _festival _of errors." Brian assured him. "I could have eaten a bowl of Alphaghetti and crapped better copy."

"Thank you… for that charming imagery." Vance made a moue of distaste. "What do you suggest we do to redeem them?"

"Fire those fucking simpletons and hire some people who aren't sharing one brain between them."

"I'll talk to the boys, Brian." Vance promised after a pause. "Send them in to see me when we're done and I'll put the fear of God into them, all right?"

Brian was immediately suspicious. Vance was never voluntarily accommodating. "So – what's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Michaud Industries."

"No way." Brian jumped in, sick to death of this topic already. "How many times do you plan to bust my balls over the same thing? I am not soliciting the guy again."

"We don't need to." Vance could barely contain himself.

"Come again?"

Vance was practically bouncing in his seat. "He approached us."

"I thought you said this guy was shopping New York and LA?"

"He was." Vance nodded. "Now he's shopping here."

"So… what?" Brian was unimpressed. "Now we can compete with the big boys?"

"So… he wants to hire us, that's what. There is no competition."

"Since when?" Brian was dubious of this good fortune.

"Since he was smart enough to check out our work." Vance informed him. "He wants you over there ASAP to see how we feel about 'the fit', and he's wired our account more than enough retainer to make the trip worthwhile. We'd have to move on the winter ads, though. We're already behind."

"What do you mean _we_?" Brian protested. "I have way too much happening here to go anywhere. You were the one who wanted the big fish - go reel him in."

"You've met him, though." Vance pointed out.

"Big deal." Brian shrugged. "You go. I've been traveling practically non-stop for over a month and I'm sick of it. Besides, think of all the Parisian pussy you'll get to sample."

"It's not that simple." Vance was starting to lose his initial glow of excitement, but amazingly let the pussy comment slide. "It's definitely a … package deal."

There was a pause while Brian figured out what Vance was really saying. "Checked us out, huh? Checked _me _out, you mean."

"You… me… what does it matter? We're a team."

"I see." Brian shook his head in disgust. "Well, what time did you schedule the game? Do I have time to pack first?"

"Absolutely." Vance guaranteed him. "You don't go until Saturday."

"What about my accounts?"

"I'll take them over personally and send final approvals to you." Vance was desperate to sign this client – it was worth multimillions if played right, and he was willing to make any concession if only Brian would do this. Although he wasn't planning to volunteer that fact, nor would he volunteer that Gilles Michaud had made it plain there _was _no contract unless Brian, and only Brian, was able to exclusively handle this project.

"Fine." Brian was terse. He hated a fait accompli unless he presented it. "You do realize that given how I met the guy, he's unlikely to be impressed by some of our methods." Brian had never seen any point in telling Vance the whole story of his meeting with the Frenchman.

"I'm sure he understands that in business sometimes you have to do things that don't agree with your principles."

Yeah…" Brian stood to go back to his office and give Cynthia the news. "Like forget that you have them."

_xxxx_

"Delpine, est il vraiment nécessaire de…"

"Papa, I have asked you repeatedly to use English." Delphine scolded. "There is no one for me to practice with if you don't. Then all that travel and the money you spent on private school and Berkley will be wasted when I forget how to speak the language."

"Fine, fine." The man good-naturedly agreed. "As I said – is it really necessary that we visit this hovel you feel obliged to dine in with such frequency?"

"It's a café, not a hovel and I want to show it to you. Besides - the food is superb. You won't believe it."

"I already don't believe it." He laughed. "I ate in my share of café's when I was in school and they were all hovels. None of them approached superb, I can promise you."

"Well, this one does." She insisted. "There's something about it. Now be a good sport, we're almost there."

"A good sport?" Gilles laughed. "This is still a saying? They said that when _I_ went to university in America. I never quite understood what it meant."

"Well, in this instance it means you must humor your daughter." She turned the corner and motioned him towards the door of Casa Fiona.

"Fine." Gilles never wasted an opportunity. "Then you must humor your father and tell me about the new job _and _the new young man. Not necessarily in that order, either. And don't, as they say, leave out any of the _good stuff_."

"D'accord, papa." She agreed. "But after we eat – I can't concentrate on anything until I have some lunch. I missed breakfast this morning and I'm starving." She looked around, not seeing the cheerful hostess who usually presided over patrons. "Although, it looks like we may have to seat ourselves."

Just as she was getting desperate enough to do so, a young blonde man approached them. "Puis-je vous aider?"

"That is a decidedly American accent, am I right?" Delphine inquired, used to traveling students working as waiters; she'd done it herself years ago.

"It is and I am." Justin smiled. "Fiona will be back in a minute, but I can seat you if you want."

"Excellent." The older man declared. "My daughter informs me that she is starving."

"This way." Justin put them at a small table near the windows. That way they were unlikely to be joined by anyone. The older gentleman probably didn't care to share his table with strangers. "Andrew will be your server, I believe and he should be over shortly. Today's menu is on the boards. Enjoy your lunch."

With that Justin disappeared into the back. "Fiona." He called. "I sat a couple at the small front table, okay? I didn't want to keep them waiting."

"How many times have I told you, if you've a mind to work here – you must let me hire you and pay a proper wage. " Fiona came back into the kitchen from supervising some deliveries. "But I appreciate it just the same."

"I might have had to if you hadn't turned me on to how a starving artist makes his living abroad."

"Are you off then?"

"Yep. I'm going to sketch down by the church today."

"Well, try not to sell them all again or you'll have nothing to do tomorrow but lay about and pester me."

"You love it." Justin laughed.

"I do." She agreed. "I don't believe it's widely known that I'm not the type you fancy. It might give my love life a right kick to be seen with such a handsome young man."

"That's some of that Blarney stuff I've heard of, isn't it."

"Not a bit of it." Fiona sniffed. "I don't know what you're on about."

"Whatever." He shook his head at her pretense. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Have you put up your other pictures?"

"No – I didn't know where you want them. You can tell me tomorrow."

"Nevermind that. I'll sort it out." Fiona waved him on. "Off you go now. And mind you get a decent night's sleep. Andrew tells me you've been out every night, and you look all but ready to blow away as it is."

"Not with what you keep feeding me, I won't." Justin disagreed. "I'll see you in the morning for brunch."

"Brunch." Fiona agreed.

xxxx

Well…here he was again. The fiddler had left over twenty minutes ago, so why wasn't he going up this time? Brian knew that Justin would probably be in. He loved the light at this time of day, especially when it streamed through the loft windows. Twilight he'd called it. Ever the romantic.

Truth be told, Brian kind of liked it too. It was that time between the light and the dark, where they bled together and you could have the advantage of both. Justin liked to draw by it, but Brian liked it because he felt oddly peaceful. Like _he _could be both light and dark too and didn't have to worry about making a choice between the man he was, and the man he wanted to be.

_Justin _was the romantic fool. Right.

He opened the jeep door and started walking before he had a chance to change his mind again. He needed to do this. He'd stewed about it whenever his brain was unoccupied with other matters and it was driving him nuts. Except...on one level he was afraid of what he'd find out.

What if it was true? What if that slimy, little bastard had been telling the truth and Justin had really done that? The first thought this brought to Brian's mind, was that would mean said slimy, little bastard would have had his hands, and who knows what else, on Justin. Brian could barely stomach the thought, though he recognized how stupid it was given the amount of guys they'd both fucked.

The only way to stop torturing himself about this was to get some answers, and the only way he was going to do that was by confronting Justin. Whether he wanted to or not.

His resolve in place, Brian walked up to the dingy building and looked at the name plates. Gold. There it was – apartment 410. He gripped the front door handle, half hoping that it wouldn't open, that the place had _some _kind of security, but it gave way under his pull.

Great. One more thing he had to worry about – Justin being murdered in his bed because he and his live-in-love couldn't afford a place with decent safety features. He'd have to make it a point to include some sarcastic comment to that effect and he'd make out the school cheque for more than was required. Maybe then Justin would move them somewhere that looked a little less like the building from 'Good Times'. _Dy-no-mite_, indeed. Dynamite was the only thing that would improve the place. At least the neighborhood wasn't too bad, he reminded himself. Thank god for small favors.

He mounted the steps, noting with distaste the paint peeling from some of the walls. It smelled okay, though and it didn't seem dirty or anything. He knew he'd become a bit of a snob since his school days. Some of the places he'd lived at the time defied description, but he'd managed just fine. However, he wanted better than that for Justin. Even now.

Fuck – time to get out of that soft mentality where the kid was concerned. He intended to ask him some hard questions and that wasn't likely to go well considering they hadn't seen one another since Justin had walked out on him in favor of his starry-eyed, school boy.

Brian had been at work when Justin came to get his things and the older man had been secretly glad to come home and find that he'd forgotten a few. Mostly some books and CD's... a couple articles of clothing that had been in the laundry. It had both grieved and comforted him to have the stuff around, as if waiting for Justin to come claim it. To come claim him.

Brian realized with some amusement, at his own expense, that he hadn't brought those items with him on any of his evening stakeouts. He wasn't prepared to think too hard about what that might mean. Nothing, he dismissed it. He'd just been too busy,had other things on his mind. That was all.

He arrived at the top floor, made his way to apartment 410 and paused a moment, listening for any sound from within. There was none that he could hear, so maybe Justin wasn't home after all. He knocked tentatively and waited for an answer. Nothing. Fuck this hesitant shit. He knocked harder, hoping the sound reflected the control he wished he really felt. Still nothing.

He was just about to give up and leave when he heard a voice behind him. "Can I help y...what the fuck are _you _doing here?" Ethan's tone changed dramatically when he realized whom it was at his door.

Shit. Brian turned with a start and wanted to demand the same of his interrogator. Obviously there had been no practice tonight and the pizza in his arms evidenced the reason for Ethan's brief absence. Brian could not believe his colossal bad luck. This day was swiftly going from bad to worse.

The violinist questioned him again. "Slumming… are we?"

This meeting was something Brian hadn't planned on, but he forged ahead with his usual bravado. "Apparently so."

"Well, there are some _really _miserable buildings a few blocks over. If you like this one, you'll love those."

Great – the kid was a smart-ass. "As you can imagine, I didn't come here to see you. I just came to give Justin his school cheque." Brian informed him. "I'll be traveling a lot and I might not be around when fees are due." There, that sounded plausible.

Why was the kid just staring at him? Jesus, was his fabrication that transparent? When Ethan still didn't say anything, Brian spoke. "Is there a problem with that?"

The kid smiled finally, as though something pleasant had just occurred to him. "Nope, not for me. " He turned and opened the door to his apartment. "I take it you'd like to come in?"

"Like?" Brian followed him through the door, his manner exaggerating contempt for his surroundings. "No, that's not a word I'd associate with this particular activity."

Ethan put the pizza down on the counter and turned around. "Then why are you here – why not just mail it?"

"I need to talk to him about a couple things."

"Really." Ethan folded his arms and leaned back, scrutinizing the man. "Such as…"

Brian's composure was beginning to unravel as he took in the presumptuous air. "Obviously, I'm not getting into it with you."

"You might reconsider when you find out I'm your only audience."

"Look, Justin is my…he's my responsibility to a certain extent and…"

Ethan shook his head. "I'm sorry, what? Responsibility? Who are you trying to kid?"

"I'm not trying to do anything except write Justin a cheque and get the hell out of the projects."

"Listen, asshole - Justin isn't _your _anything." Ethan found himself angry on his friend's behalf. "You may have fucked him for awhile – you may even have formed some unnatural attachment to him, but the fact remains - he's not yours anymore."

Brian ignored the sting those words caused and proceeded as if he hadn't heard them. "Are you going to stand there letting your pizza get cold or are you going to be helpful?"

"Fine. I hate to be the one to tell you this but…no wait a minute, that's not true at all…actually I'm enjoying it immensely…." Ethan began.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Could you _possibly _see your way clear to making sense soon?"

"Justin's not here."

"No kidding." Brian treated Ethan to some of his infamous sarcasm. "So… when will he be back?"

"Now _that… _is the million dollar question." Ethan laughed.

Brian just looked at the kid for a minute in bafflement. "Is there a history of mental illness in your family?"

"Well, my grandfather played an imaginary violin for a few years." Ethan offered with a smile. "That the sort of thing you mean?"

"Whatever." Brian gave up. "Have him call me tonight when he gets in."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Ethan informed him cheerfully. "I told you…he's not here. At all."

Brian had been avoiding looking too hard at his surroundings up until now, but he finally scanned the place, noting the lack of mess that Justin usually generated. "He moved out?"

"After a bit, yeah. Then he left altogether."

"Left Pittsburgh?" Brian couldn't believe it.

"Left the States." Ethan corrected him. "Justin flew to Europe on June 15th."

Brian was stunned. "But…that was over a month ago."

Ethan simply stared and took in Brian's changed countenance for a moment. The transformation had been instantaneous and amazing. When Justin's absence registered with the man, all shields dropped and clearly he had not the resources to raise them right away. In that moment, Ethan thought he glimpsed the man that Justin loved. And who, if current appearances were to be believed, loved him back. "Uh…Brian?"

"Yeah, " He acknowledged, trying to recover himself. "I should …I should go then. I…"

Ethan didn't really know the guy, but he appeared to be pretty freaked out. And he didn't like the guy either, but that didn't mean he wanted to be responsible for him driving into a tree.

"Wait a minute…" Ethan struggled for a stall, but came up only with the truth. "I really don't think you should drive right now."

Brian laughed, but it had a bitter edge to it. "Oh… because you care, right? I'm supposed to believe that the guy who fucked my boyfriend behind my back now has my best interests at heart?"

"Actually, I _don't _care." Ethan snapped, not having the patience for this shit the way Justin obviously did. "But Justin might blame me and I'd prefer we remain friends."

"Friends." Brian's tone made obvious his disbelief. "Really."

"You know, I don't give a shit whether you believe me or not." Ethan told him. "But friends is all we were… well, became. And unfortunately for me, it's all we'll ever be."

"What are you talking about?" Brian scoffed "I thought you boys ran off into the sunset together."

"He ran all right… but not to me." Ethan pointed out. "Just away from you. How could you not see that? He claims you're brilliant."

Brian had no response at first. He didn't know what to react to first: Ethan's revelation that Justin hadn't left him for someone else after all, or the fact that his ex-lover was no longer in Pittsburgh. "Well, regardless of the reason - he left. That's all I really needed to see."

Brian knew he should get out of there and go somewhere he could think. And drink - _a lot_. He couldn't believe that no one had told him about this. Obviously they would have known of it. How could they have kept it from him?

"Maybe because you gave them all specific instructions not to mention his name, you idiot." His subconscious reminded him. Fuck. He had no idea how to process this information. The kid was right – he probably had no business behind a wheel right now, but when had that ever stopped him.

Ethan watched Brian wage some kind of inner war and despite his natural inclination, he actually felt sorry for the guy. "You know…my mother impressed on me at a young age that it's rude to have someone in your home for longer than five minutes and not offer them a drink."

Brian barely registered the conciliatory tone. "Yeah? My mother impressed on me at a young age that marrying a drunken Irishman is a very bad idea."

Ethan laughed, but not unkindly. "I'm half Jewish and I wasn't proposing anything other than a beer. Frankly, you look like you could use something stronger, but it's all I have."

"Alcoholic beverages from the guy who claims he wants me to drive safely?" Brian shook his head. "Can't make up your mind, huh?"

Ethan acknowledged the man's attempt at levity with a small smile. "Yeah, well…I'm a musician – we're allowed to be flaky." He opened the fridge and took out two beers, handing one to Brian. "Here's mud in your eye."

"May I assume that you _aren't _being literal?" Brian asked before taking a swig.

"If you like." Ethan smirked.

They drank in silence for a minute while Ethan opened the Pizza box and got out a plate, wondering if he should get two… and then wondering if he'd lost his mind. "He still loved you."

All he got in return was a raised eyebrow.

"Really." Ethan confirmed, wondering why he was sharing this at all. "He just…I guess he wasn't happy."

"No shit." Brian managed a little sarcasm, but was really stuck on the 'still loved you' part. The kid's use of the word didn't bother Brian so much as the fact that it was phrased in the past tense. He put the beer down and moved to leave. "Thanks for the drink."

"No problem."

Brian walked over and opened the door. As he walked through it, he turned his head and said, "You know… you really should see about getting a deadbolt put on this thing. Your building has zilch in the way of security." He cracked a subdued version of his usual grin and proceeded towards the stairs. "After all, you don't want just anybody getting in."

Ethan shook his head and laughed as he shut the door.

xxxx

"Well isn't this a treat." Fiona exclaimed. "Twice in one day, no less."

"I was hungry." The tired looking blond explained.

"And what, may I ask, was the use in switching to a room with a kitchenette if you're not going to make use of it?" Fiona inquired. "Madeline was certain to give you her best one."

"I don't suppose you had anything to do with that?" Justin smiled.

"I did not." Fiona refuted the charge. "She's that kind, is Maddy."

"Well, it's great to afford a better room now, but I didn't get a chance to buy any groceries before everything closed."

_"And _you missed me desperately." Fiona teased.

"And I missed you desperately." He agreed.

"Well, here I am in all my glory, so miss no more. Now – what do you fancy?"

"I know it's not today's theme, but do you think Marc would make me a cheeseburger and fries?"

"I should think so." Fiona said. "Homesick are you?"

"Just for the food." Justin assured her. "I still love France."

"As do I." Fiona nodded. "But... sometimes it's a trial to be so far from home... and loved ones."

Justin knew what Fiona was getting at and he reassured her. "I'm not lonely, Fee. Honestly."

"Oh I believe you, lad. How could you be with the veritable parade I hear tell goes through your room...assuming of course they make it that far." Fiona shook her head in exasperation. "Do you not intend to keep one at some point? Maybe find one you think you could love?"

"Nope." Justin told her. "I told you – I don't believe in love."

"Well, at this rate, you're going to go through every gay man in Montpellier."

"Hardly. But if it happens I'll just start at the beginning again." He laughed. "Now can we talk about something besides my sex life? It might put the straight customers off their dinner."

"Supper." She corrected absently while noting more of them had entered. "And speaking of it, go tell Marc what you want while I seat these people."

Justin made his request of Marc, who was happy to do the favor. Justin realized the guy was straight, but he still seemed a little on the flirty side. Maybe after he ran out of Montpellier's gay men, he'd start on the undecided. Not Marc though. He wasn't going to piss off a guy who could spit in his food if he felt like it.

Justin walked out to find Fiona at the bar with her evening pint. "Starting early, are we?"

"Ah, but I keep the same one the whole evening, you see. Nurse it along, like."

"That is the only redeeming feature of this beer." Justin made a face. "You don't have to worry about it getting warm."

"Redeeming feature, indeed." Fiona shook her finger at him. "It's grand stuff."

"If I had enough _cold _beers in me first, I might agree with you."

"You drank it right enough the night we met." She pointed out.

"Sure – I was telling you my sad tale." Justin nodded. "This is the sort of beer you _want _to cry into."

"Blasphemer!" Fiona cried, laughing. "You're a terrible boy, you are."

He just smiled and took the beer she offered him. "What would I do without you to remind me of that."

Fiona smiled indulgently. "Now then, tell me how you fared today."

"I sold the four and got two more done." He pulled out his pad to show her. "I really like that one with the Church font. It reminds me of that Chateau D'eau sketch I was going to put up."

"Oh, did I not tell ya?" Fiona knew perfectly well that she hadn't. "I sold it, already."

"What?"

"For about three hundred of your dollars, no less."

"Are you serious?" Justin was elated. "That's amazing!"

"I was putting them up myself, so as to have them out for the supper crowd, and when I get to that one, doesn't he ask to see it." Fiona loved to tell a story. "And isn't it the very place he proposed to his wife of twenty one years, God rest her. He was here with his daughter, and if memory serves, you seated them."

"Right…" Justin remembered them vaguely. "Well, it's cool that he thought it was worth so much."

"Yes." Fiona agreed with a mysterious look on her face. "Although in fairness, it was two for the price of one."

Justin looked down at his drink. "What other did he buy?"

"Don't play daft with me, lad." Fiona scolded. "You know perfectly well what I mean; he's in every one o' them. And though I'll admit you have to really look, I'm amazed there's none have noticed."

Justin didn't actually say she was right, but merely commented, "People usually only see what's on the surface. They aren't interested in seeing anything deeper, Fee."

"That's not always true." Fiona said gently. After a pause she asked. "And does it help?"

"Not really."

"No. I didn't suppose it did."

"I just… I can't seem to help it, you know? It's like it draws itself in there and then I sketch around it. I can't explain."

"Nor do you have to." Fiona declared. "To be sure, the artistic urge needs no excuse. It does what it must."

"It does, indeed me darlin'." Justin forced a smile and imitated her speech.

"You'd be Irish now, would you?" Fiona laughed at his attempt. "Well we'll have a pint on that and I'll be teaching you the most important Irish prayer there is. You can't go though life as an Irishman, even a fake one, without it." __

"May those who love us love us  
And those who don't love us  
May God turn their hearts,  
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,  
May He turn their ankles,  
So we'll know them by their limping."

And to that, they each raised a glass.

xxxx

**IV ~ The Emperor:** He represents order in our lives, authority figures, bosses, fathers etc. He's about logic, reasoning, solidity, foundations. Part of the Emperor's work is to organize clusters of our root beliefs into conscious frameworks. His astrological cohort is Aries, a sign of leadership and energy. He draws his energy from fire and governs action, war, conquest and victory.

In a reading: It usually means something you desire is starting to appear in your life, even if you can't see it yet. Your greatest strength is the power of your will. You view every obstacle as a challenge. It can mean you attract the notice of an older man, perhaps a boss or father figure who commends you for a job well done. Through focused intent you create the conditions conducive to finding and realizing your heart's desire, whatever it may be.


	6. The Emperor

"I told you yesterday that I can't." Brian had explained this at least five times in as many minutes. However, Michael kept coming up with new ways to ask the same thing - over and over again. "I'll probably be working late tonight."

"Jesus, you're always working late!" Michael made plain his frustration. "We barely see you anymore, Brian. You've become this total workaholic."

It was true. He had. However, he felt that all things considered, the fact that he was doing anythingother than drowning himself in a bottle of JB and a tight ass every night was pretty fucking commendable. Michael wasn't giving him enough credit, but to remind him of that was to bring up something he had forbidden them all to mention. Figures that this was the one time they obeyed his wishes. The only reason he'd let Michael talk this long in the first place was in case the man inadvertently mentioned Justin coming by with the latest comic sketches or something. Clearly that wasn't going to happen. He should have figured as much when everyone managed to keep their mouths shut around him about the Kip incident. Frankly, he was a little bit surprised that Justin hadn't come to explain it all away by now. He figured that the guys' silence on the matter would extend only to him. It's not as though he'd said anything about not mentioning the incident to Justin.

Brian still hadn't gone over there. Well, he'd gone over – he just hadn't gone in. He'd sat outside their building every evening for the last five days or so, for at least half an hour, trying to will himself to enter. After a couple nights of lucky timing, he discovered that the fiddler usually left around 7:30 - for some practice or other no doubt. So he had his window of opportunity to go in, but he couldn't seem to do it.

The result was that he felt pathetic which, in turn, made him exceedingly short tempered and even more defensive than usual. "Maybe I am a workaholic, Mikey, but most of us can't just sit around all day indulging our adolescent hobby, and calling it a job." In the back of his mind, Brian knew that was pretty mean – even for him.

"Oh I don't know." Michael countered angrily, without really thinking. " Seems to me that advertising consists of manipulating people to make them want things they probably can't have. And that's been _your _favorite hobby since I met you."

Both Brian and Michael were shocked into silence for a moment by Michael's words, until Brian finally whispered. "Touché, Mikey."

"Wow." Michael gasped, not really mad anymore and assuming Brian wasn't either. After all, they had stupid fights all the time; It's just that Michael was usually the one on the losing end. "I can't believe it. That's the first time I've ever had a good comeback when I actually needed it. Cool, huh, Brian… _Brian?_"

Well this had been a snap, crackle, fuck-you sort of morning all round. He couldn't find the notes he'd made on his latest client, yelled at Cynthia for it then discovered them in his briefcase…right where he'd left them. He'd make his usual apology by way of a trip to Pittsburgh's most expensive Spa. During her tenure with him Cynthia had become a regular there.

Not that he should have to apologize in _any _fashion given that Cynthia got even by putting through a call from Michael. His best friend proceeded to berate him yet again about working so much, and then had the absolute temerity to one-up him. Asshole.

Also, moron one and moron two, the idiot twins' replacements, had brought him their pitch for the La Jeunesse 2003 skin care line, and it was beyond hideous. One look at that and the client would run screaming to another agency.

As if this weren't bad enough, Vance wanted to see him in his office right away. He was _not _in the mood for another dressing down, but he figured he might as well get it over with and got up, straightening his tie.

As he passed Cynthia's desk she warned him. "Take a deep breath and count to ten – even partners can get fired." Brian scowled while acknowledging to himself the truth of her words. Still, he'd be damned if he'd take any crap.

"Brian!" Vance greeted him with fallacious camaraderie, as though they actually liked one another. He knew for a fact that Vance would stab him in the back as soon as look at him. However, the knowledge that Brian was one of the best at what he did, likely better than Vance himself, kept him from doing so. The older man wisely supposed that if Brian were going to constantly thwart him, better he should do so working for Vanguard, instead of the competition. "How goes the battle?"

"Dismally." Brian stretched out in one of the low chairs on the other side of the desk, as though it was his own office. "Have you seen the current La Jeunesse mock ups?"

"Not good." Vance guessed.

"They are a _festival _of errors." Brian assured him. "I could have eaten a bowl of Alphaghetti and crapped better copy."

"Thank you… for that charming imagery." Vance made a moue of distaste. "What do you suggest we do to redeem them?"

"Fire those fucking simpletons and hire some people who aren't sharing one brain between them."

"I'll talk to the boys, Brian." Vance promised after a pause. "Send them in to see me when we're done and I'll put the fear of God into them, all right?"

Brian was immediately suspicious. Vance was never voluntarily accommodating. "So – what's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Michaud Industries."

"No way." Brian jumped in, sick to death of this topic already. "How many times do you plan to bust my balls over the same thing? I am not soliciting the guy again."

"We don't need to." Vance could barely contain himself.

"Come again?"

Vance was practically bouncing in his seat. "He approached us."

"I thought you said this guy was shopping New York and LA?"

"He was." Vance nodded. "Now he's shopping here."

"So… what?" Brian was unimpressed. "Now we can compete with the big boys?"

"So… he wants to hire us, that's what. There is no competition."

"Since when?" Brian was dubious of this good fortune.

"Since he was smart enough to check out our work." Vance informed him. "He wants you over there ASAP to see how we feel about 'the fit', and he's wired our account more than enough retainer to make the trip worthwhile. We'd have to move on the winter ads, though. We're already behind."

"What do you mean _we_?" Brian protested. "I have way too much happening here to go anywhere. You were the one who wanted the big fish - go reel him in."

"You've met him, though." Vance pointed out.

"Big deal." Brian shrugged. "You go. I've been traveling practically non-stop for over a month and I'm sick of it. Besides, think of all the Parisian pussy you'll get to sample."

"It's not that simple." Vance was starting to lose his initial glow of excitement, but amazingly let the pussy comment slide. "It's definitely a … package deal."

There was a pause while Brian figured out what Vance was really saying. "Checked us out, huh? Checked _me _out, you mean."

"You… me… what does it matter? We're a team."

"I see." Brian shook his head in disgust. "Well, what time did you schedule the game? Do I have time to pack first?"

"Absolutely." Vance guaranteed him. "You don't go until Saturday."

"What about my accounts?"

"I'll take them over personally and send final approvals to you." Vance was desperate to sign this client – it was worth multimillions if played right, and he was willing to make any concession if only Brian would do this. Although he wasn't planning to volunteer that fact, nor would he volunteer that Gilles Michaud had made it plain there _was _no contract unless Brian, and only Brian, was able to exclusively handle this project.

"Fine." Brian was terse. He hated a fait accompli unless he presented it. "You do realize that given how I met the guy, he's unlikely to be impressed by some of our methods." Brian had never seen any point in telling Vance the whole story of his meeting with the Frenchman.

"I'm sure he understands that in business sometimes you have to do things that don't agree with your principles."

Yeah…" Brian stood to go back to his office and give Cynthia the news. "Like forget that you have them."

_xxxx_

"Delpine, est il vraiment nécessaire de…"

"Papa, I have asked you repeatedly to use English." Delphine scolded. "There is no one for me to practice with if you don't. Then all that travel and the money you spent on private school and Berkley will be wasted when I forget how to speak the language."

"Fine, fine." The man good-naturedly agreed. "As I said – is it really necessary that we visit this hovel you feel obliged to dine in with such frequency?"

"It's a café, not a hovel and I want to show it to you. Besides - the food is superb. You won't believe it."

"I already don't believe it." He laughed. "I ate in my share of café's when I was in school and they were all hovels. None of them approached superb, I can promise you."

"Well, this one does." She insisted. "There's something about it. Now be a good sport, we're almost there."

"A good sport?" Gilles laughed. "This is still a saying? They said that when _I_ went to university in America. I never quite understood what it meant."

"Well, in this instance it means you must humor your daughter." She turned the corner and motioned him towards the door of Casa Fiona.

"Fine." Gilles never wasted an opportunity. "Then you must humor your father and tell me about the new job _and _the new young man. Not necessarily in that order, either. And don't, as they say, leave out any of the _good stuff_."

"D'accord, papa." She agreed. "But after we eat – I can't concentrate on anything until I have some lunch. I missed breakfast this morning and I'm starving." She looked around, not seeing the cheerful hostess who usually presided over patrons. "Although, it looks like we may have to seat ourselves."

Just as she was getting desperate enough to do so, a young blonde man approached them. "Puis-je vous aider?"

"That is a decidedly American accent, am I right?" Delphine inquired, used to traveling students working as waiters; she'd done it herself years ago.

"It is and I am." Justin smiled. "Fiona will be back in a minute, but I can seat you if you want."

"Excellent." The older man declared. "My daughter informs me that she is starving."

"This way." Justin put them at a small table near the windows. That way they were unlikely to be joined by anyone. The older gentleman probably didn't care to share his table with strangers. "Andrew will be your server, I believe and he should be over shortly. Today's menu is on the boards. Enjoy your lunch."

With that Justin disappeared into the back. "Fiona." He called. "I sat a couple at the small front table, okay? I didn't want to keep them waiting."

"How many times have I told you, if you've a mind to work here – you must let me hire you and pay a proper wage. " Fiona came back into the kitchen from supervising some deliveries. "But I appreciate it just the same."

"I might have had to if you hadn't turned me on to how a starving artist makes his living abroad."

"Are you off then?"

"Yep. I'm going to sketch down by the church today."

"Well, try not to sell them all again or you'll have nothing to do tomorrow but lay about and pester me."

"You love it." Justin laughed.

"I do." She agreed. "I don't believe it's widely known that I'm not the type you fancy. It might give my love life a right kick to be seen with such a handsome young man."

"That's some of that Blarney stuff I've heard of, isn't it."

"Not a bit of it." Fiona sniffed. "I don't know what you're on about."

"Whatever." He shook his head at her pretense. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Have you put up your other pictures?"

"No – I didn't know where you want them. You can tell me tomorrow."

"Nevermind that. I'll sort it out." Fiona waved him on. "Off you go now. And mind you get a decent night's sleep. Andrew tells me you've been out every night, and you look all but ready to blow away as it is."

"Not with what you keep feeding me, I won't." Justin disagreed. "I'll see you in the morning for brunch."

"Brunch." Fiona agreed.

xxxx

Well…here he was again. The fiddler had left over twenty minutes ago, so why wasn't he going up this time? Brian knew that Justin would probably be in. He loved the light at this time of day, especially when it streamed through the loft windows. Twilight he'd called it. Ever the romantic.

Truth be told, Brian kind of liked it too. It was that time between the light and the dark, where they bled together and you could have the advantage of both. Justin liked to draw by it, but Brian liked it because he felt oddly peaceful. Like _he _could be both light and dark too and didn't have to worry about making a choice between the man he was, and the man he wanted to be.

_Justin _was the romantic fool. Right.

He opened the jeep door and started walking before he had a chance to change his mind again. He needed to do this. He'd stewed about it whenever his brain was unoccupied with other matters and it was driving him nuts. Except...on one level he was afraid of what he'd find out.

What if it was true? What if that slimy, little bastard had been telling the truth and Justin had really done that? The first thought this brought to Brian's mind, was that would mean said slimy, little bastard would have had his hands, and who knows what else, on Justin. Brian could barely stomach the thought, though he recognized how stupid it was given the amount of guys they'd both fucked.

The only way to stop torturing himself about this was to get some answers, and the only way he was going to do that was by confronting Justin. Whether he wanted to or not.

His resolve in place, Brian walked up to the dingy building and looked at the name plates. Gold. There it was – apartment 410. He gripped the front door handle, half hoping that it wouldn't open, that the place had _some _kind of security, but it gave way under his pull.

Great. One more thing he had to worry about – Justin being murdered in his bed because he and his live-in-love couldn't afford a place with decent safety features. He'd have to make it a point to include some sarcastic comment to that effect and he'd make out the school cheque for more than was required. Maybe then Justin would move them somewhere that looked a little less like the building from 'Good Times'. _Dy-no-mite_, indeed. Dynamite was the only thing that would improve the place. At least the neighborhood wasn't too bad, he reminded himself. Thank god for small favors.

He mounted the steps, noting with distaste the paint peeling from some of the walls. It smelled okay, though and it didn't seem dirty or anything. He knew he'd become a bit of a snob since his school days. Some of the places he'd lived at the time defied description, but he'd managed just fine. However, he wanted better than that for Justin. Even now.

Fuck – time to get out of that soft mentality where the kid was concerned. He intended to ask him some hard questions and that wasn't likely to go well considering they hadn't seen one another since Justin had walked out on him in favor of his starry-eyed, school boy.

Brian had been at work when Justin came to get his things and the older man had been secretly glad to come home and find that he'd forgotten a few. Mostly some books and CD's... a couple articles of clothing that had been in the laundry. It had both grieved and comforted him to have the stuff around, as if waiting for Justin to come claim it. To come claim him.

Brian realized with some amusement, at his own expense, that he hadn't brought those items with him on any of his evening stakeouts. He wasn't prepared to think too hard about what that might mean. Nothing, he dismissed it. He'd just been too busy,had other things on his mind. That was all.

He arrived at the top floor, made his way to apartment 410 and paused a moment, listening for any sound from within. There was none that he could hear, so maybe Justin wasn't home after all. He knocked tentatively and waited for an answer. Nothing. Fuck this hesitant shit. He knocked harder, hoping the sound reflected the control he wished he really felt. Still nothing.

He was just about to give up and leave when he heard a voice behind him. "Can I help y...what the fuck are _you _doing here?" Ethan's tone changed dramatically when he realized whom it was at his door.

Shit. Brian turned with a start and wanted to demand the same of his interrogator. Obviously there had been no practice tonight and the pizza in his arms evidenced the reason for Ethan's brief absence. Brian could not believe his colossal bad luck. This day was swiftly going from bad to worse.

The violinist questioned him again. "Slumming… are we?"

This meeting was something Brian hadn't planned on, but he forged ahead with his usual bravado. "Apparently so."

"Well, there are some _really _miserable buildings a few blocks over. If you like this one, you'll love those."

Great – the kid was a smart-ass. "As you can imagine, I didn't come here to see you. I just came to give Justin his school cheque." Brian informed him. "I'll be traveling a lot and I might not be around when fees are due." There, that sounded plausible.

Why was the kid just staring at him? Jesus, was his fabrication that transparent? When Ethan still didn't say anything, Brian spoke. "Is there a problem with that?"

The kid smiled finally, as though something pleasant had just occurred to him. "Nope, not for me. " He turned and opened the door to his apartment. "I take it you'd like to come in?"

"Like?" Brian followed him through the door, his manner exaggerating contempt for his surroundings. "No, that's not a word I'd associate with this particular activity."

Ethan put the pizza down on the counter and turned around. "Then why are you here – why not just mail it?"

"I need to talk to him about a couple things."

"Really." Ethan folded his arms and leaned back, scrutinizing the man. "Such as…"

Brian's composure was beginning to unravel as he took in the presumptuous air. "Obviously, I'm not getting into it with you."

"You might reconsider when you find out I'm your only audience."

"Look, Justin is my…he's my responsibility to a certain extent and…"

Ethan shook his head. "I'm sorry, what? Responsibility? Who are you trying to kid?"

"I'm not trying to do anything except write Justin a cheque and get the hell out of the projects."

"Listen, asshole - Justin isn't _your _anything." Ethan found himself angry on his friend's behalf. "You may have fucked him for awhile – you may even have formed some unnatural attachment to him, but the fact remains - he's not yours anymore."

Brian ignored the sting those words caused and proceeded as if he hadn't heard them. "Are you going to stand there letting your pizza get cold or are you going to be helpful?"

"Fine. I hate to be the one to tell you this but…no wait a minute, that's not true at all…actually I'm enjoying it immensely…." Ethan began.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Could you _possibly _see your way clear to making sense soon?"

"Justin's not here."

"No kidding." Brian treated Ethan to some of his infamous sarcasm. "So… when will he be back?"

"Now _that… _is the million dollar question." Ethan laughed.

Brian just looked at the kid for a minute in bafflement. "Is there a history of mental illness in your family?"

"Well, my grandfather played an imaginary violin for a few years." Ethan offered with a smile. "That the sort of thing you mean?"

"Whatever." Brian gave up. "Have him call me tonight when he gets in."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Ethan informed him cheerfully. "I told you…he's not here. At all."

Brian had been avoiding looking too hard at his surroundings up until now, but he finally scanned the place, noting the lack of mess that Justin usually generated. "He moved out?"

"After a bit, yeah. Then he left altogether."

"Left Pittsburgh?" Brian couldn't believe it.

"Left the States." Ethan corrected him. "Justin flew to Europe on June 15th."

Brian was stunned. "But…that was over a month ago."

Ethan simply stared and took in Brian's changed countenance for a moment. The transformation had been instantaneous and amazing. When Justin's absence registered with the man, all shields dropped and clearly he had not the resources to raise them right away. In that moment, Ethan thought he glimpsed the man that Justin loved. And who, if current appearances were to be believed, loved him back. "Uh…Brian?"

"Yeah, " He acknowledged, trying to recover himself. "I should …I should go then. I…"

Ethan didn't really know the guy, but he appeared to be pretty freaked out. And he didn't like the guy either, but that didn't mean he wanted to be responsible for him driving into a tree.

"Wait a minute…" Ethan struggled for a stall, but came up only with the truth. "I really don't think you should drive right now."

Brian laughed, but it had a bitter edge to it. "Oh… because you care, right? I'm supposed to believe that the guy who fucked my boyfriend behind my back now has my best interests at heart?"

"Actually, I _don't _care." Ethan snapped, not having the patience for this shit the way Justin obviously did. "But Justin might blame me and I'd prefer we remain friends."

"Friends." Brian's tone made obvious his disbelief. "Really."

"You know, I don't give a shit whether you believe me or not." Ethan told him. "But friends is all we were… well, became. And unfortunately for me, it's all we'll ever be."

"What are you talking about?" Brian scoffed "I thought you boys ran off into the sunset together."

"He ran all right… but not to me." Ethan pointed out. "Just away from you. How could you not see that? He claims you're brilliant."

Brian had no response at first. He didn't know what to react to first: Ethan's revelation that Justin hadn't left him for someone else after all, or the fact that his ex-lover was no longer in Pittsburgh. "Well, regardless of the reason - he left. That's all I really needed to see."

Brian knew he should get out of there and go somewhere he could think. And drink - _a lot_. He couldn't believe that no one had told him about this. Obviously they would have known of it. How could they have kept it from him?

"Maybe because you gave them all specific instructions not to mention his name, you idiot." His subconscious reminded him. Fuck. He had no idea how to process this information. The kid was right – he probably had no business behind a wheel right now, but when had that ever stopped him.

Ethan watched Brian wage some kind of inner war and despite his natural inclination, he actually felt sorry for the guy. "You know…my mother impressed on me at a young age that it's rude to have someone in your home for longer than five minutes and not offer them a drink."

Brian barely registered the conciliatory tone. "Yeah? My mother impressed on me at a young age that marrying a drunken Irishman is a very bad idea."

Ethan laughed, but not unkindly. "I'm half Jewish and I wasn't proposing anything other than a beer. Frankly, you look like you could use something stronger, but it's all I have."

"Alcoholic beverages from the guy who claims he wants me to drive safely?" Brian shook his head. "Can't make up your mind, huh?"

Ethan acknowledged the man's attempt at levity with a small smile. "Yeah, well…I'm a musician – we're allowed to be flaky." He opened the fridge and took out two beers, handing one to Brian. "Here's mud in your eye."

"May I assume that you _aren't _being literal?" Brian asked before taking a swig.

"If you like." Ethan smirked.

They drank in silence for a minute while Ethan opened the Pizza box and got out a plate, wondering if he should get two… and then wondering if he'd lost his mind. "He still loved you."

All he got in return was a raised eyebrow.

"Really." Ethan confirmed, wondering why he was sharing this at all. "He just…I guess he wasn't happy."

"No shit." Brian managed a little sarcasm, but was really stuck on the 'still loved you' part. The kid's use of the word didn't bother Brian so much as the fact that it was phrased in the past tense. He put the beer down and moved to leave. "Thanks for the drink."

"No problem."

Brian walked over and opened the door. As he walked through it, he turned his head and said, "You know… you really should see about getting a deadbolt put on this thing. Your building has zilch in the way of security." He cracked a subdued version of his usual grin and proceeded towards the stairs. "After all, you don't want just anybody getting in."

Ethan shook his head and laughed as he shut the door.

xxxx

"Well isn't this a treat." Fiona exclaimed. "Twice in one day, no less."

"I was hungry." The tired looking blond explained.

"And what, may I ask, was the use in switching to a room with a kitchenette if you're not going to make use of it?" Fiona inquired. "Madeline was certain to give you her best one."

"I don't suppose you had anything to do with that?" Justin smiled.

"I did not." Fiona refuted the charge. "She's that kind, is Maddy."

"Well, it's great to afford a better room now, but I didn't get a chance to buy any groceries before everything closed."

_"And _you missed me desperately." Fiona teased.

"And I missed you desperately." He agreed.

"Well, here I am in all my glory, so miss no more. Now – what do you fancy?"

"I know it's not today's theme, but do you think Marc would make me a cheeseburger and fries?"

"I should think so." Fiona said. "Homesick are you?"

"Just for the food." Justin assured her. "I still love France."

"As do I." Fiona nodded. "But... sometimes it's a trial to be so far from home... and loved ones."

Justin knew what Fiona was getting at and he reassured her. "I'm not lonely, Fee. Honestly."

"Oh I believe you, lad. How could you be with the veritable parade I hear tell goes through your room...assuming of course they make it that far." Fiona shook her head in exasperation. "Do you not intend to keep one at some point? Maybe find one you think you could love?"

"Nope." Justin told her. "I told you – I don't believe in love."

"Well, at this rate, you're going to go through every gay man in Montpellier."

"Hardly. But if it happens I'll just start at the beginning again." He laughed. "Now can we talk about something besides my sex life? It might put the straight customers off their dinner."

"Supper." She corrected absently while noting more of them had entered. "And speaking of it, go tell Marc what you want while I seat these people."

Justin made his request of Marc, who was happy to do the favor. Justin realized the guy was straight, but he still seemed a little on the flirty side. Maybe after he ran out of Montpellier's gay men, he'd start on the undecided. Not Marc though. He wasn't going to piss off a guy who could spit in his food if he felt like it.

Justin walked out to find Fiona at the bar with her evening pint. "Starting early, are we?"

"Ah, but I keep the same one the whole evening, you see. Nurse it along, like."

"That is the only redeeming feature of this beer." Justin made a face. "You don't have to worry about it getting warm."

"Redeeming feature, indeed." Fiona shook her finger at him. "It's grand stuff."

"If I had enough _cold _beers in me first, I might agree with you."

"You drank it right enough the night we met." She pointed out.

"Sure – I was telling you my sad tale." Justin nodded. "This is the sort of beer you _want _to cry into."

"Blasphemer!" Fiona cried, laughing. "You're a terrible boy, you are."

He just smiled and took the beer she offered him. "What would I do without you to remind me of that."

Fiona smiled indulgently. "Now then, tell me how you fared today."

"I sold the four and got two more done." He pulled out his pad to show her. "I really like that one with the Church font. It reminds me of that Chateau D'eau sketch I was going to put up."

"Oh, did I not tell ya?" Fiona knew perfectly well that she hadn't. "I sold it, already."

"What?"

"For about three hundred of your dollars, no less."

"Are you serious?" Justin was elated. "That's amazing!"

"I was putting them up myself, so as to have them out for the supper crowd, and when I get to that one, doesn't he ask to see it." Fiona loved to tell a story. "And isn't it the very place he proposed to his wife of twenty one years, God rest her. He was here with his daughter, and if memory serves, you seated them."

"Right…" Justin remembered them vaguely. "Well, it's cool that he thought it was worth so much."

"Yes." Fiona agreed with a mysterious look on her face. "Although in fairness, it was two for the price of one."

Justin looked down at his drink. "What other did he buy?"

"Don't play daft with me, lad." Fiona scolded. "You know perfectly well what I mean; he's in every one o' them. And though I'll admit you have to really look, I'm amazed there's none have noticed."

Justin didn't actually say she was right, but merely commented, "People usually only see what's on the surface. They aren't interested in seeing anything deeper, Fee."

"That's not always true." Fiona said gently. After a pause she asked. "And does it help?"

"Not really."

"No. I didn't suppose it did."

"I just… I can't seem to help it, you know? It's like it draws itself in there and then I sketch around it. I can't explain."

"Nor do you have to." Fiona declared. "To be sure, the artistic urge needs no excuse. It does what it must."

"It does, indeed me darlin'." Justin forced a smile and imitated her speech.

"You'd be Irish now, would you?" Fiona laughed at his attempt. "Well we'll have a pint on that and I'll be teaching you the most important Irish prayer there is. You can't go though life as an Irishman, even a fake one, without it." __

"May those who love us love us  
And those who don't love us  
May God turn their hearts,  
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,  
May He turn their ankles,  
So we'll know them by their limping."

And to that, they each raised a glass.

xxxx

**IV ~ The Emperor:** He represents order in our lives, authority figures, bosses, fathers etc. He's about logic, reasoning, solidity, foundations. Part of the Emperor's work is to organize clusters of our root beliefs into conscious frameworks. His astrological cohort is Aries, a sign of leadership and energy. He draws his energy from fire and governs action, war, conquest and victory.

In a reading: It usually means something you desire is starting to appear in your life, even if you can't see it yet. Your greatest strength is the power of your will. You view every obstacle as a challenge. It can mean you attract the notice of an older man, perhaps a boss or father figure who commends you for a job well done. Through focused intent you create the conditions conducive to finding and realizing your heart's desire, whatever it may be.


	7. The Hierophant

"Mother, I agreed to these occasional dinners with the clear understanding that you would not pry into my personal life unless I am foolish enough to volunteer something."

"Brian, I merely asked what happened with your young man." Joanie protested.

As he pinched the bridge of his nose, Brian definitely felt a headache coming on. "Could you… _not _call him that."

"Fine." Joanie struggled to remember. "J…ason? No…Jeremy..."

"Justin." Brian gave up. "His name is Justin. Although, what it matters to you, I can't fathom. I told you – we don't see each other anymore."

"And I simply asked what happened." Joanie persisted.

"Jesus - I was too old for him, okay?" Brian finally snapped. "And I fuck around too much. Are you happy now?" They were both aware that more than a few heads in the restaurant had turned their way. Fuck it, he didn't care. He did, however, lower his voice. "Justin decided he'd had enough of both and he left. End of story."

To Brian's amazement, Joanie did not remark on his outburst. "How 'too old' are you?"

"Twelve years."

"I see." Joanie commented. "And which one of you does it bother?"

He hesitated. "Me, I guess."

She looked down at her plate and speared some lettuce. "Is that what led to the other thing that made him leave?"

"Not really… I've always been like that." Mothers – apparently even bad ones, never lose that ability to trick you into something you don't want to do. He could not believe he was having this fucking conversation. It was surreal to say the least and he'd best soon put a stop to it. If he didn't, their little détente would be over before it was well begun. "Look – this isn't something I really want to discuss with you."

"I don't understand why." Joanie objected. "If it doesn't bother me, why should it bother you?"

"I doubt even _straight _guys discuss their sex lives with their mothers." Brian assured her. "It's a guy thing, not a gay thing. Okay?"

"All right." She shook her head and continued eating. "If you say so."

"Emphatically."

"Fine, I'll drop it on one condition." How had he forgotten how fucking persistent she could be? He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"If when you pick me up from Church Thursday night, you'll come in for a moment."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." Brian was incredulous. "I thought you wanted us to get along? Now you want me to burst into flames?"

"Very droll, dear." She pretended to be annoyed, but was fighting off a smile. "No, I want to prove to the ladies in my group that I'm not making you up. Now I can tell them all about your upcoming trip to France, too. " She put down her fork and picked up her napkin. "And I'm sure that Reverend Tom would like a chance to meet you again. He's been very supportive of our spending time together."

"You don't say." Inwardly, Brian had a good laugh at himself. His inability to make his relationship with Justin work, had left him so pathetic that he was now trying to make one work with his mother. And in his case, that was as bad as it sounded, but in a different way. He knew he couldn't refuse her, however, and was glad that she had silly personal details, to gossip over with her cronies. It seemed to make her a lot happier. "Fine ." He agreed. "… but only for a minute."

_xx-xx_

"Mom, I just think it's a good idea." Justin had finally called home and broken the news that he wouldn't be back until the end of the summer. "I wouldn't even be able to get a job at home now anyway." He reminded her. "Over here I am at least selling enough sketches to finance my trip for now."

"But Justin, what about school?" Jennifer inquired.

"What about it? It's not like I have to do anything to get ready for it. I'll order my supplies online and have them sent to you until I work out where I'm staying."

"You can stay here, of course." His mother jumped at the chance to have him where she could so easily keep an eye on him – and make sure he was happy. "I'd love to have you."

He doubted he'd be back for school at all, never mind living with his mom while attending, but it was better to get her used to this in stages. "We'll worry about that when I get home, okay?"

"Justin, I don't know even know where you are right now. Are you still in Italy?"

"No, Spain - on the Mediterranean side. It's really beautiful." Well, it was the truth. The part he left out was that his home base was now Montpellier and he had simply driven across the border to the beach for the day, with Andrew and his roommate Cal. They had located a beach where Andrew could look at all the bikini-clad bimbos he wanted, while Cal and Justin could find eye candy too. Mainly they just wanted to get out of town for a little while.

"Spain – oh be careful about the water, Justin." Jennifer warned. "It's not the same as some of the other places you've been. It's a little more…back to basics."

"Mom – I've been drinking nothing but bottled water the whole trip." Justin told her. "I'm being incredibly paranoid, I promise - okay?" It was true; and in fact, it was his reason for being so misleading considering his whereabouts. He had visions of his mother getting on a plane, coming over and dragging him home when he finally announced that he wasn't returning.

"Have fun too, of course." His mother told him. "I can't wait to hear about everything when you get back. Although the emails are nice too."

"I try to get to it once in awhile Mom, but those Internet cafes always have long lines and they charge you a mint for more than five minutes. I'm sorry that they're short."

"As long as I know you're alive and well, honey." Jennifer explained. "You can tell me the details when you get home."

"OK." Justin was getting anxious to go. The last bit about difficulty with emails was a bit on the embellished side since Fiona had a computer and said he could use it anytime. "Listen Mom – I should go. There are people waiting for me." Also true - Andrew and Cal _were _waiting …at the bar across the street, having supper.

"All right." Jennifer gave up on answers and was just happy he called at all. "Let me know your new flight information when you have it."

"I will."

"I love you, Justin."

"Me too." He responded. "Give Molly a kiss for me, OK? Bye Mom."

He hung up and tried not to feel too guilty, as he rejoined the guys at the table. He was glad he didn't know them all that well. He wasn't likely to be subjected to a bunch of difficult questions about his phone call and why he now looked so depressed. But he could fix that. "Hey, you guys – what say we get out of here soon? I wouldn't mind making it back in time to hit Martin's Bar before the clubs."

_xx-xx_

Brian had decided that with all the traveling he'd been doing lately, that maybe it was time to have a look at his will. He'd made one out years ago, when he first got the loft and the job with Ryder. It was pretty simple, as legal documents went; he didn't have much at the time, and there were not many he'd been interested in leaving things to.

Now, however, it occurred to him that he had a lot more to leave and a lot more people counting on him. Although he often said he could have done without the latter, that wasn't strictly true - though it _did _complicate his life considerably. And while he was under no illusions as to how much weeping would be done on his behalf, he knew that his financial support, at least, might be missed if anything were to happen to him.

So earlier this week, he had met with his lawyer and given the document a complete overhaul, as well as appointed a new executor. It had been a tedious experience and, frankly, a little on the morbid side, but he was glad it was finished. Now all he had to do was give someone a copy. He gave a perfunctory knock and pushed open the door in front of him.

"Well…to what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

"I'm thrilled to see you too, Mel." Brian responded with his usual lack of enthusiasm. "But I need to take care of a little legal business."

"What happened to that guy I referred you to after the harassment suit?" Melanie inquired.

"Davidson? Yeah, I called him. He's good." Brian told her.

"Then what do you need me for?"

"With all the bullshit traveling I've been doing, it occurred to me that maybe my will was out of date and I thought I should leave you with a copy."

"Let me guess…" Melanie laughed. "You're leaving all your worldly possessions to me."

"In a manner of speaking." Brian sat down and handed her the envelope, which she opened. "Since I've made you executor."

"What?" Melanie looked up from the thick document. "Why?"

Brian struggled with how to respond to that, since he liked to avoid saying anything nice to Melanie whenever possible. So he tried to find a way around telling her that it was because he knew she was a fair person, and that he respected her. "Consider it my way of continuing to hassle you from beyond the grave." Was as close as he got. "Look, let's not make this a big deal, OK?"

"Brian…I…" Melanie wasn't sure how to respond to this. She flipped through the document, glancing at names here and there and she recognized most of them. There was a large insurance policy specifically for his mother and sister. A significant chunk of change, along with various personal effects went to Michael Deb, and Vic, as well as to Lindsay. Gus had a huge trust fund that had been started at his birth and which received a sizable portion of Brian's overall insurance policy. There were some lesser amounts for other people, and an IRA account for Justin, as well as... "You're leaving the loft and contents to Justin?"

"Yes." Brian said briskly. "Do I need to offer you an official retainer in order to invoke the whole lawyer/client privilege?"

"What?" Melanie looked up. "No…I just…I'm surprised."

"Well, I didn't come to see what you thought of how I divvy everything up… just if you would administer it." Brian informed her and smiled. "And hey… now it's in your best interest to stick with Linds and Gus – they'll have all the money."

She scowled. "Like I need your incentives, asshole."

"So it's okay?" He asked. "You'll do it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Since you already had it drawn up, and at least you'll have to die before it becomes something I have to deal with – sure, why not."

"Thanks." Brian nodded. "I…appreciate it."

"Wow – that must've hurt."

"A little, if you must know."

"I bet." Mel seemed to be considering something. "Actually… your dropping by now couldn't have been better timing. There's something kind of important I want to talk to you about, but not here. Do you have time?"

"I have another hour or so, why?" Brian asked. "And why not here?"

"Frankly, because you're likely to freak out and I don't want my boss to hear you." She admitted as she stood up and grabbed her purse. "It'll make me look bad, and unlike some people, _I_ haven't made partner yet. So unless you're willing to die in order to ensure your son goes to college…let's go out for coffee."

"Fine, but you're buying."

They left Melanie's building and walked half way down the block to a cafe. On the way, they'd managed to stick to Gus for the interim conversation. That, surprisingly, was a topic that introduced a minimum of sniping. Once they had settled and finished chatting about Gus' latest act of brilliance, Brian brought things back to the matter at hand.

"Ok, here we are – completely out of earshot of anyone who can influence your career in any way…" Brian spread his hand to indicate the empty booth. "So – what's so likely to piss me off?"

Melanie took a deep breath she hoped he didn't notice. "I need to talk to you about Justin."

Brian just started at her, tongue in cheek for a moment. "Now I _know_ you know better than to lecture me about things that are none of your business."

"Trust me, I wouldn't bother." Melanie assured him, meeting his stare. "No, as much as it pains me, I need your… advice."

"About Justin?" Brian inquired, somewhat intrigued. "To hear you guys tell it, I don't know anything about the kid."

"I doubt anyone said that." Melanie disagreed. "I imagine that it was more along the lines of you not knowing what to _do_ with that knowledge. Now, can I ask you about this or not?"

"I am, as they say, all ears."

Melanie went on. "You remember that civil suit we filed against Chris Hobbs, right?"

"I assumed nothing came of it." Brian hadn't really assumed anything of the sort. What he had done was block it out completely since he couldn't think about anything connected to that event without feeling sick.

"Well, to make a long story short, there was a lot of haggling done and they dragged it out forever. Basically, his lawyer didn't want it to go to trial since a jury is less likely to be soft on Hobbs, but they didn't want to cough up the settlement I asked for, either."

"What makes you so sure you'd get money out of a jury, when the fucking judge didn't see fit to punish the bastard?" Despite his resolve not to get upset about this topic, it was unavoidable.

Melanie had not missed Brian's whole body tense at the mention of anything connected with that night, and surprisingly, she found herself wishing she could spare him this, but she didn't know who else to talk to. "Civil cases are different since the burden of proof is often less. Also, everyday people of a jury, at least one I'd pass, can be a lot less politically motivated than a judge. There are things we know now, too; that we were unaware of at the time of the sentencing. Things that show longer term disabilities for Justin that Hobbs should be held accountable for and that also translate more easily into dollar amount compensation."

"Justin is _not_ fucking disabled." Brian snapped. "And I would love to know how it's easy to put a dollar amount on fighting his way from being labeled that, along with months of nightmares and God knows what else. This is bullshit!"

"Hey!" Melanie interrupted. "I know that – okay. It is the worst kind of bullshit, but it is _my_ job to make sure that Justin has to deal with a minimum of it. That means that I have to wade through it instead, and I don't need you to add to the pile. I love the kid too, you know."

Brian let go of his defensive posture and dropped his gaze to his coffee. "I'm sorry."

Melanie wasn't sure which surprised her more, the fact that he hadn't refuted the implication that _he_ loved Justin, or that he'd apologized for the first time in…ever. She doubted he had done either consciously and decided to forge ahead while he was temporarily contrite. "Anyway, here's the thing: they finally settled. We have tentatively been able to agree on an amount and basically they can have a cheque cut by next week."

Brian looked back up. "And the problem with that is…?"

"Justin's absence."

Brian was glad he wasn't having another one of those '_I know where Justin is and you don't_' conversations. He'd had about all he could take of feeling like an idiot in front of people who hate him. "Last I heard, Europe had faxes. He can sign and send it back. It's not a big deal."

"That's not it." Melanie explained. "With the paperwork he already authorized, technically I can sign this agreement on his behalf and deposit the money to his account."

Brian simply looked at her, waiting for her to get to the point.

"The issue is that Jennifer isn't sure it's a good idea for Justin to have the money right now."

Brian was confused. "Why not?"

"She's worried about him." Melanie tried to explain it. "Obviously you know his Dad finally anted up for the family's traditional Europe trip, but it was only a month's worth of expenses. She's afraid if he gets this money now…he won't be back for awhile."

"Then how has he stayed there this long? It's already been over a month." As he asked, Brian was almost grateful that Ethan had tipped him off about this, or by dinnertime the entire gang would have been aware of his ignorance on the matter. Lawyer/client privilege probably went only so far and that would be too juicy for Mel to keep to herself.

"Actually, I spoke to Jennifer again just before you dropped by." Melanie told him. "Apparently he's managed by selling a lot of his drawings and doing some odd jobs here and there. He called her today and said he's not coming back until the end of summer now."

Brian felt a twinge at all this news about Justin's life…a life that Brian was no longer part of. "So he extended his holiday – so what? It's not as though he doesn't deserve one and if he's working for it, why should anybody hassle him?"

"I'd agree with you except for the fact that Jennifer's worried he won't come back at all, and I can't say I'm not a little concerned too."

"What makes you think that?" He asked, not sure that he wanted to know.

"He's… not the same kid, Brian." Melanie ventured. "We barely saw him after…well, you know, after. And before you tear my head off, I am not blaming you or trying to pick a fight, I'm just saying - I'm not sure where his head is. His mother wonders if maybe lack of funds won't eventually force him home and she's concerned about giving him the means to stay away indefinitely."

Brian was quiet while he digested all this. "Is it legal for you to stall it?"

Melanie shrugged. "Pretty much. I could claim that I wanted him to go over the documents in my presence before we agree – buy a little more time. Although Justin and I did agreed on a compensation range he was happy with, and this falls into it, so I also have authorization to go ahead. It's basically more of a judgment call."

"I see." Brian acknowledged with his first smile of the day. "So, let me make sure I understand this. _You_ are coming to _me_…for help with a moral dilemma? Thanks Mel – I needed a good laugh."

"Shut up asshole." Melanie shook her head. "Don't think the irony doesn't make me nauseous, but you're… close to him, and I was hoping you might be helpful in figuring out what's in his best interest."

Brian sobered again. "I don't know, Mel. It's not like I spent a lot of time with him before he left, you know."

Melanie sighed. "I realize that – I just…I have no idea what the right thing to do is and ultimately it's going to rest on my conscience, whatever it is."

"Does Jennifer know you're talking to me about it?"

"Yeah – she thought it couldn't hurt. She actually volunteered to do it herself, but I decided I like her too much to subject her to that."

Ah yes – they were getting back on familiar ground now. Insults _were_ a comfort. "Oh really? Does Linds know about this fondness? I may be gay but even I know Jennifer Taylor is hot. Not planning a conversion are you?"

"Could you _not _be a prick, for just two more minutes?"

"According to you I'm always a prick."

"Fine, I give up."

"Look, Mel…" Brian got serious again for a moment, as requested. "I don't know that I'm in a position to say what's best for Justin right now. I'll…I'll think about it, okay? I'll call you about it, or email you from the road. All right?"

"Fine." Melanie sighed. It would have to do – God knows she was fresh out of good ideas. And despite what he might profess, she knew Brian really cared for Justin and would probably give the matter serious thought. That was all she could reasonably expect. "When do you go, again?"

"Saturday." He reminded her. "I take it you don't mind if I stop by and visit my son before I leave?"

"Could I stop you?" Melanie ruefully asked, but not without a small smile. "_Our_ son would prefer Friday night, if you don't mind. And Lindsay is likely to feed you, if you arrive by six."

"Not that thing with all the garlic again, I hope?" Brian inquired as they got up to walk outside. "On second thought, that ought to ensure me a seat alone in First Class."

_xx-xx_

"Well, how did she take it, then?" Fiona asked.

"Not great." Justin admitted. "She mostly pretended that it was fine but it was obvious she's worried."

"Naturally." Fiona exclaimed. "And you mustn't begrudge her the worrying of it. Every mother has that right."

"Fee, you don't even have kids."

"Aye, but I've helped raise more than you've had blinks." She asserted.

"Whatever." Justin laughed. "I didn't need the guilt trip. She'll get over it when she sees nothing bad happens to me and that I can make some money over here."

Fee simply nodded. There was no point in telling him that no mother was ever likely to get over the worrying of a child. No matter how old they got. And she wasn't so foolish as to believe Justin didn't warrant a little worrying, but there was no point in saying so. "On to the rest of your day, then – did you have a good time?"

"It was nice." Justin told her. "I'd like to take a day trip somewhere other than the beach next time though. I was starting to feel like I'd gotten a little too much sun at the end."

"Ah, you're some Irish for certain then. There's few of us with skin that can abide much sun." Fiona laughed at him. "You don't look as though you're too much of a lobster, though."

"No, I was covered in SPF one billion." He made a face. "It was more of a headachy thing. Remind me to take a hat the next time."

"That I will." She nodded "Now then, what'll it be for brunch?"

"Mmm…what country are we today?"

"Marc was inspired by your trip." She explained. "Today we are Spain."

"Oh man, I ate that last night!" Justin laughed. "I guess the Spanish omelet would be good."

"Done." She said. "I think I'll have the same." She turned and bellowed. "Andrew! Two Spanish Omelets and mind you don't get that long hair in it or I'll cut it myself." She waged an ongoing war with Andrew over his hair. Naturally, he kept it in a neat ponytail and it got nowhere near the food, but she was always after him to cut it. Said he had cheekbones to be shown off and that hair did them no justice.

"God, have you been yelling like that all morning?"

"What of it?"

"Andrew must be ready to kill you." Justin told her. "We took him out drinking with us last night, since Martin's had half-price night for dykes. He got completely, slobberingly drunk and I wasn't much better. But _I_ didn't have to get up at nine to come to work, and I slept off most of my hangover."

"Don't be tellin' me he tried to convert the lesbians again."

"He has this theory that they're really all bi-sexual and he might actually stand a chance."

"But he doesn't think that gay men are bi?"

"Nope." Justin shook his head. "Andy's Australian - he's only interested in theories that leave a higher percentage of women available for him."

"Ah." Fiona understood. "What are your plans for the day, Luv?"

"I think I'm going back to the church. There was a sort of gargoyle holding up one of the angels on the outside, that I think today's lighting might really help me capture. It sort of suits the mood. It's an ominous looking thing to have on a church."

"I know the very one." Fiona agreed. "And it's odd to be sure. If you've a mind to see strangeness in a church, you must get to Rennes Le Chateau one of these days." Fiona nodded her head. "Consecrated in the 11th century it was, and full of mystery about the Knights Templar. Doesn't it have a _devil _holding up the blessed entry font."

"How bizarre."

"Worse yet," She continued. "Over the doorway in Latin it says: _This place is terrible_."

"What a weird thing to say about a church." Justin was intrigued. "Tell me about it."

_xx-xx_

"Fucking figures." Brian thought to himself as he waited. "Fetish night at Babylon and I'm stuck in this terrible place." He'd always hated it. Even as a child, when his mother had dragged both he and his sister, while his father slept off his hangover.

Tonight he had come in to make nice as agreed and, after doing so, was asked if he would mind waiting for just a few minutes while she went downstairs to check on some silliness for one of her committees. He had no choice, of course. This was why he was uncertain that spending more time with his mother was a good thing – she could still make him do stuff. He sat down resignedly in a pew and settled in to wait in the now quiet church.

He thought about what he'd do after he took his mother home. He really should go see Mikey. It's not that he didn't want to; actually he missed his best-friend's company. It's just…he wasn't really keen to be around people who could read him very well. The fact of the matter was that he was not in the mood for this trip. He felt the need to finally sit at home and lick his wounds for a while.

He had to accept that Justin had clearly gone on without him just fine. And although he hadn't really left him for Ethan, it didn't make him any less gone. Brian tried to be glad for the kid and was amazed that Craig had sprung for the trip.

If Justin was gallivanting all over Europe, he _must _be fine. He'd just realized what Brian always knew: The world could be his, but it was unlikely to happen with Brian Kinney by his side. And Justin deserved the world.

"Let me guess…" A voice from behind interrupted his thoughts. "You've been abandoned for last minute discussions of Saturday's Bazaar."

"Bazaar… bizarre. Something like that."

Reverend Tom sat in the pew in front of Brian and turned to face him. "So…I'm not the only one missing fetish night."

Brian snorted. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what yours is, Rev."

"I'm not as wild as I look" The man laughed. "You're mother tells me you've been spending a little time together."

"Hmmm." Brian nodded. "I'm still trying to figure out why."

"Because you're a much better person than you'd like to be thought, is my guess."

"Rev, please don't tell me you're a psychology major – I hate those guys."

"Tom – and no, just a minor in it." He smiled. "I hate those guys too, but I didn't discover that until second year, when I switched to Computer Science."

"So why this gig? I mean, you're a bright guy – how do you end up working for God instead of Microsoft or something."

"God's benefits package was better." Tom laughed. "I can't explain it to you, Brian. It just completes me in a way that does not lend itself to words. I like to think that I help people, that I make a difference for some of them and for whatever reason, being needed fills a need in me."

"It's never been my experience that being needed is a desirable thing." Brian said. "Need tends to be followed around by other words like _expectation_ and _disappointment_."

"So which do you do most of: the expecting or the disappointing?"

"Until lately, usually the latter."

"Ah." Tom nodded. "And that's the way you prefer it?"

"Let's just say I'm used to it." Brian informed him ruefully.

"Well, you're not disappointing your mother these days at least." Tom told him. "She sings your praises every time I see her. If I didn't know better I'd suspect she was trying to set us up."

Brian laughed. "Don't let her find out or she probably will."

"Listen Brian, I…" Tom was unsure how to explain himself. "I'm aware of how hypocritical I must seem to you, and given your troubles with your mother - I feel badly about it."

"Don't." Brian told him. "Your sexual preference isn't any of your flock's concern; unless, of course, you're fucking the sheep."

Tom rolled his eyes but laughed. "Actually, I feel a little jealous of you for not having to hide anymore."

"Frankly, I don't think it's made much difference." Brian told him. "If anything, it makes her _more_ curious about my life."

"So, she's accepted your being gay?"

"Not exactly ready to march with PFLAG, but the stuff she asks!" Brian practically shuddered at the topics his mother seemed to think it was all right to introduce to their conversation. Jesus, and he hadn't even broken the news about Gus yet, although he had decided he would when he got back.

"Driving you nuts, huh?" Tom guessed.

"That is an understatement." Brian assured him. "How does she know how to press every fucking button I have?!"

"Ah, that's easy." Tom explained. "She installed most of them."

Brian laughed openly. He actually didn't hate this guy. Too bad he'd already fucked him – he'd never done it in a church.

"Brian, about your mother…just give her some time to realize you won't disappear and she'll probably settle down on the excessive prying."

Brian shrugged. One could hope.

Tom continued. "As for expectations and disappointments…well I don't have any specific advice for that."

"Don't worry – I didn't come here for counseling services."

"That's okay." Tom smiled. "They're free with the price of admission."

Brian noticed his mother coming up the stairs at the back and stood to go meet her by the door. As he did, Tom spoke again.

"I'll give you my overall, standard, good for all occasions advice." Tom offered.

"And that is?" Brian cocked his head.

"When you're unsure what to do – just do what feels natural."

"This sounds suspiciously like X-rated advice."

"What I mean is…your first instinct is usually the right one. You should go with it more often without analyzing it to death." Tom tried to explain. "God will usually give you signs and if you follow them, you can pretty much just go along for the ride without having to work too hard at it."

"You aren't, by any chance, advocating a basic 'go with the flow' type attitude, are you?" Brian could not believe this.

"More or less, I suppose." Tom considered it and nodded. "Yes.

"Well, not to disparage your professional guidance," Brian said as he began to walk away. " But I got very nearly the same advice from a tarot reading transvestite."

"Marilyn?" Tom exclaimed. "Isn't she great!"

_xx-xx_

V ~ The Hierophant: This card represents organizations, groups and structures. It's about tradition and ritual, the established way of doing things.

In a reading: You come up against the powers that be, whether corporate, religious or family. This clash of belief systems helps you clarify your own position. A counselor offers unorthodox advice that makes you nuts. Ultimately you make your own decision and find a way to incorporate your ideas into the established structure.


	8. The Lovers

Dropping his mother off and explaining he wouldn't have time to see her again before he left had been much less harrowing than he'd expected. She simply told him she hoped he would have a good trip and asked if maybe he could send her a postcard… if he had time. She 'understood how busy' he would be. Man, she was _good _– because before he knew it he was promising to bring her back something, as well.

How was this happening? Where had this kinder, gentler Brian Kinney come from? Because frankly… he wanted to bitch slap the fucker back to wherever it was.

Actually, he knew what was going on, he had just put off thinking about it. Nothing big was going on, nothing earth shattering; he was just… tired. It was as uncomplicated as that. Nobody seemed to realize what a huge amount of energy was required to maintain his sardonic subterfuge. It was a very simple strategy really, and he was a big believer in its effectiveness: You convince people that you feel nothing, and usually they won't even bother trying to hurt you. If you do it long enough, sometimes you can almost convince yourself as well. But it did take a lot out of you, and Brian's reserves were low. With everything going on the last few months he was in serious need of a recharge.

He'd decided to go see Michael and convince him to come to Woody's with him. His best friend would be so happy to have Brian volunteer to go out, that he was unlikely to bug him about anything. They could just drink, shoot some pool and relax. Brian could use a little less drama, thank you very much.

He walked in the door just as Michael's part time, high school helper was turning the closed sign and walking out. "Is he here?" Brian asked.

"Downstairs." The pimply faced adolescent mumbled before closing the door.

"Hey Novotny!" Brian yelled out. "Come drink adult beverages with me."

Michael stuck his head around the corner and looked up the stairs. "Brian? Hi! Give me five minutes – I'll be right up."

Brian wandered over to lean on the counter and picked up a comic from the box beside it. Well, it looked like the new _Rage _issue was in. He was surprised Michael hadn't called him the minute it arrived. Justin must have busted his ass to get these done before he left. Brian flipped through the comic for a few moments, staring at it with an increasingly shaken expression.

Michael put away the last of the boxes and bounded up the stairs full of excitement that his friend had stopped by unannounced. Maybe things would finally get back to normal around here. "You want to eat beforehand? I should call Ben first though, he was…"

"What the fuck is this?" Brian barked.

"What?" Michael was confused by the change in tone.

"This!" Brian slammed the both the comic and his hand down on the counter. "This bullshit story line. It's not enough that he's gone - you had to kill him off too? What the hell is wrong with you, Michael?"

"What are you talking about?" Michael got defensive. "He wouldn't draw the goddamn thing anymore unless I agreed to that. Along with a bunch of other inconvenient conditions."

Brian picked it up again and stared at the last several frames once more. Jesus, the corpse had a slight smile on its face. He was sure he was going to be sick. _"You _write the fucking story line – don't tell me this isn't your doing."

"Excuse me, but where do you get off coming in here and yelling at me, anyway?" Michael shouted back. "How was I supposed to bring it up? You're never around, and when you finally do grace us with your presence, it's with the understanding that anyone who even mentions Justin's name will be verbally eviscerated."

"That's because it is usually followed by either a lecture or a bunch of questions." Brian defended. "You didn't think that maybe _this _little bit of information might have been an exception?"

"Why should there be _any _exceptions?" Michael demanded. "You've made it clear that you don't give a shit about him, so why should we?" He shook his head. "I've had it with this. Fuck walking on eggshells, fuck your superior attitude and fuck you too!"

Ben came in just as Michael was uttering this last. "Whoa …somebody want to tell me what's going on here?" He stepped between them, since he wasn't too sure about the look on Brian's face. "Well?" He looked from one to the other.

"Ask the murderer." Brian suggested and then left, slamming the door behind him.

"Asshole!" Michael let out in frustration.

Ben looked at his boyfriend and could see the tension written all over his face. "What the hell was he talking about?"

Michael held up the latest issue of rage, which hours ago he had been delighted to see and now represented everything that was wrong between he and his best friend. "The ending."

"He didn't know?" Ben asked.

"Apparently not." Michael shook his head, still furious over Brian's accusations. "And apparently it's all my fault, too."

"You know that isn't true." Ben soothed.

"You're goddamn right it isn't." Michael fumed. "His fucking non-relationship falls apart and the rest of us get punished for it, while Justin goes on fucking holiday!"

Ben came over and put his arms around Michael from behind. At first Michael tensed as though he were going to pull away, but gradually he settled into his lover's embrace and sighed. "It just came out of nowhere – he totally freaked out."

Ben nodded. "I can imagine."

Michael turned and looked at him. "You can?"

"Sure." Ben nodded. "I wasn't around when the bashing took place, but from what you've told me, Brian was an absolute wreck. And I would bet you were the only person at the time to see the kind of pain he was in because he trusts you. You're his best friend."

"Well, he's got a funny way of showing it." Michael wasn't quite ready to be forgiving yet.

"I know, but try to imagine how he feels: Attempting to live with the aftermath of that event, only to find that the only person he let himself be vulnerable in front of, has made his worst nightmare come true…if only on paper."

"I honestly didn't want to do that, though." Michael insisted. "Justin left me no choice."

"_I_ know that." Ben assured him. "But does Brian?"

"I tried to tell him, but I didn't get to explain it completely; we kinda skipped ahead to the yelling and the name calling."

"Then don't you think you should try again?"

"I guess." Michael conceded. "I hate it when we fight."

"I'm sure it's not high on Brian's list of things to do either."

"Yeah, well…he should have thought of that before barreling in here full of accusations." Michael had calmed down a little at least, but he was still kind of annoyed. Just because he understood doesn't mean Brian didn't owe him an apology.

Ben could see there was no point in continuing this right now. "Come on. Lock up and I'll take the successful businessman home for some gourmet cooking he won't soon forget."

"Fine." Michael smiled reluctantly. "As long as it's followed by some gourmet sex he won't soon forget either."

"Done."

_xxxx_

It was now eight o'clock on a Thursday night and he couldn't figure out what the hell to do with himself. After the scene with Michael, he had lost all desire to go to Woody's or Babylon and frankly, the desire to hang out on Liberty Avenue at all for the moment. It seemed so insulated suddenly, and he was bored of it. Maybe sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name – but you know - sometimes you _really _don't.

Besides, he wasn't even in the mood to get laid. He just wanted to sit and have a few quiet drinks. He'd do it at his loft except for the depressing mound of unpacked clothes that awaited him. _So _not ready to deal with that just yet. Fuck it – he'd go somewhere else for a change. He drove to an area several minutes away from the loft and found what he was looking for. A little group of restaurants and bars all lumped together in the same few blocks near a movie theater. He'd done business lunches around here on occasion, and remembered thinking that a couple had looked like tolerable nighttime venues.

One of them was a pub and he decided he'd go there. Anything called _The Queen's Head_ couldn't be totally straight. He saw a space open up a block ahead of his intended destination and willed it to stay free until he got there. It did. Well at least something was going right. Justin used to call it his parking mojo. He said Brian was so arrogant, had such a firm belief that there should always be a spot open for him, that there just was. Justin would laugh at him and…. Enough! This was precisely the sort of thing that had him needing a drink so fucking bad.

He locked the jeep, pocketed the keys and started walking. As he crossed the street and progressed a few steps, he heard the faint sounds of music. Violin music, to be exact. Brian sighed. Well sure, why not. Because _clearly, _he wasn't having a miserable enough evening. He chose a course of action as he walked – besides, he was reasonably certain it was impossible for him to feel worse than he already did. The violinist's back was to him as he passed, so there was a chance he would go un-noticed. He didn't look back to find out and walked the last few steps to the bar.

It was reasonably empty at the front, since several pool tables at the back seemed to attract all the attention. Amazingly the crowd was not entirely straight and he didn't feel as out of place as he had expected to. He took a seat at the near empty bar facing the mirror and ordered a double JB.

As he threw it back he thought about the scene with Mikey. He couldn't believe his friend had thought Brian would be okay with the comic's second issue. There had been no need to kill JT off and Brian had been hoping, though he was just realizing it now, that he would be able to watch his relationship with the young man succeed in fiction at least. A little vicarious living had been unconsciously planned and now he was feeling depressed.

He'd really needed a friend tonight and felt like Michael had let him down. He could've warned Brian – he should have known how devastating those images and the very idea of them would be. And for Justin to draw that little smile on his face - ugh. It gave Brian the shivers. What did it mean? Was he happy to be out of that relationship no matter the means? Brian had no idea. He just knew it was disturbing.

Speaking of disturbing…

"Look who it is." The voice did not sound surprised to see him sitting there. "A little far from home, aren't you?"

"Not far enough apparently." Brian shook his head. "I guess I owe _you _a drink."

"That's okay. Some magnanimous moron dropped a hundred bucks in my case – again, and I can afford to knock off early for the night."

"He probably saw that rat trap you live in and figured you need the money." Brian suggested. "You buy a dead-bolt for that door, yet?"

"No."

"Then this round's on me. You need to save all _your _money for the hardware store… and a decent hair cut." Brian couldn't help but add.

Ethan laughed. "Fine."

After Brian asked for another, Ethan gave his order and sat there in silence, not sure why he'd really come in.

He'd been playing, as he did most evenings, outside one of the more popular restaurant areas in town. He arrived around 7:30 or so to get the early diners leaving and the late crowd showing up. He usually made out all right in the two hours or so that he stayed.

Tonight had been going not too badly either, but he wasn't really in the mood. He was wallowing in the fact that the summer was half over and he felt like he'd barely experienced any of it. Nothing but work. He just needed a break, so he was giving himself the rest of the night off. It was in the middle of _Reger's Sonata in D minor_, that he thought he'd seen Brian Kinney out the corner of his eye. When he finished the piece and found Ben Franklin peering up at him from his case, he knew he had. He resolved to call it a night for sure, but it took him all of _Bach's Sonata No 3 in C major_, to decide whether or not to go in and speak to Brian. He had no idea what finally compelled him to do so.

After a couple of minutes of silent drinking, Brian finally spoke. "I 'm sure you make okay money busking, but it can't be very reliable. Why don't you get a day job?"

"I have one." Ethan informed him. "At the library. Minimum wage, but at least it's boring and I can study. Doesn't leave me too tired to practice either."

Brian nodded. "Which you then do on the street while people pay to listen." The Ad exec's mind was drawn to the multitude of part time jobs he had scrambled between to put himself through school. He had to admire this kid's initiative, as much as he might like to avoid admiring _anything _about him at all.

"Exactly." Ethan nodded. "It's not a bad arrangement." He studied Brian up close for a change, taking in the privileged air that seemed present under all circumstances. "I don't suppose you ever had to resort to that kind of thing."

The other man gave a short laugh. "You'd be surprised what I've had to resort to." He said in a way that made Ethan wonder what they were _really _talking about.

Brian signaled the bartender to bring another and tossed back the rest of what he had in his glass. He'd probably better slow it down for a bit, since this would be his third. He didn't want to have to leave the jeep overnight and he'd only meant to get out for an hour or so anyway.

"You drink a lot." Ethan commented. It came out sounding not like criticism, but merely the observation it was. "Do you always do that?"

Brian considered it. "It's been known to happen." This whole situation was so surreal to him that he felt kind of like he was incredibly stoned and it was more of a dream than reality. "Why do you ask?"

"Justin can drink a lot and he doesn't really look like the type. I've never seen anyone drink him under the table and I wondered where he learned that kind of tolerance."

Brian was actually a little amused. "You think I corrupted him, huh?"

"No, I didn't mean …I shouldn't have brought him up. I'm not even sure why I'm in here." Ethan had considered not asking his question, but did wonder how Brian would react if he mentioned Justin's name. He wasn't trying to start a fight, he was just…curious.

"He was able to hold his booze when I met him." Brian leaned on the bar with one elbow. "No drugs, paranoid as hell about E or anything, but god, the kid could drink." Brian laughed. "Usually drank me under the fucking table too."

"In the genes I guess."

"You meet the parents?" Brian definitely didn't want to know this, so he had no idea why he was asking.

"Just the mother a few times… for ten minutes or so."

"You didn't miss much with the father." Brian informed him. "Actually worse for Justin than me, if you can imagine that."

"What makes you think I believe you were bad for him?"

"You'd fuck a guy you thought was in a _good _relationship?" The hypocrisy of his question was not lost on Brian given his rather lax standards when it came to tricks.

Ethan just stared at Brian for a minute, trying to figure some things out. And it was clearly starting to unnerve the older man. "What?"

Well," Ethan cocked his head. "I'm trying to decide whether you're hoping I'll tell you why the two of us broke up, or why the two of _you _broke up."

"Why would I care about either one?"

Ethan shook his head as though to say '_nice try_' and took a drink without acknowledging the question further.

"It was right for him to go." Brian said decisively.

"Right for who? For him or for you?" Ethan returned his attention to the man beside him.

"Both."

"Well, I guess it all worked out the way it's supposed to then." Ethan said.

"You don't seem to have come out any further ahead." Brian pointed out. "Just the opposite in fact, unless you're going to tell me your artistic temperament relishes the angst."

"There is that." Ethan smiled. "And it isn't entirely untrue. But no – it didn't end the way I wanted."

"How did it…?" Brian's question slipped out before he could stop it.

Despite the fact that this guy had everything Ethan wanted and threw it away, he felt sorry for him. Maybe that was why he answered. "There was no real break up for us. I suspected it wasn't going to work the night we walked out of the club."

Ethan wasn't sure where he was going with this. He really had no business here saying anything to this man, but here he was just the same, and he didn't feel done yet. "We didn't get more than a block before he stopped and leaned against a building. I assumed he was going to cry, you know… freak out a little. I was ready for that. But he didn't. He just stood there and stared back down the street at this lamp in front of the club for about five minutes. Then he turned to me and said '_I left_'. I said _'yeah', _and then we just started walking." Ethan was lost in the memory of one of the more bizarre nights of his life.

He snapped out of it and focused on Brian once more, taking the man's silence is request to continue. "That was it. He came back and stayed at my place for a while. We did still… you know…a few times, but it just felt weird. He didn't love me and we both knew it."

"How?" Brian felt compelled to understand and the three Jim Beam, while hardly fucking him up, did provide convincing rationalization for asking. "How did you know?"

"He _always _knew, of course, but I think that I was really sure about a week after the Rage party." Ethan explained. "He scared the shit out of me. He had this dream where he woke up terrified and unable to breathe. Christ, it was horrible." Ethan looked at Brian's face and noticed the man looked unhappy, but not surprised. "At first I assumed he was awake, but I don't think so because I couldn't even touch him and he just kind of sat crying for a few minutes…and saying your name. I almost called you, but he finally calmed down. He wouldn't talk about it and no matter what he said about being fine, I knew that he wanted to be with you. That he loved you."

Brian ignored the statement. "You ask him what it was all about?"

"He just said he'd be all right and that this wasn't the first nightmare he'd had like that. He said not to worry, but I'll tell you…I've never seen anything so scary as when he first woke up."

"I have." Brian whispered mostly to himself. "Was it the Sunday?"

"Yeah." Ethan confirmed.

"I figured." Brian thought about what he'd done that day. He'd gone in to the office, reveling in the uncharacteristic quiet and delving into copy corrections that were irritating enough to keep his mind occupied. Then he'd gone home, scanned the call display to see if there were any from…well, from anyone he'd want to talk to. When he saw that there wasn't, took enough to sleeping pills to ensure fourteen hours uninterrupted hibernation and waited for it to be tomorrow.

"He didn't say anything about it then, but later I figured out what it was. What day it was." Ethan clarified, feeling very weird about this whole conversation.

"Was it just the one?" Brian wanted to know.

"I don't know." Ethan admitted. "Normally I sleep like the dead, but I happened to be awake that night. If it happened again I probably wouldn't know – he took to sleeping on the couch after that."

"Ah." Brian's acknowledgment didn't sound at all triumphant, though Ethan had thought it might.

He considered telling Brian that Justin had very likely still been having nightmares, since he knew the guy went running in the middle of the night on a regular basis. The first time Justin had come in at 4 am, all winded and sweaty, he had explained to a worried Ethan that it helped him rest. It slowed his brain down enough so that he could actually sleep. And sleep he did, so Ethan simply looked at it as a phase that would eventually end. He did not, however, feel compelled to tell Brian about it. He owed it to his friend to keep some confidences and he'd probably said too much already.

Ethan stood. "I should go."

"Probably." Brian agreed.

"Thanks for the drink." He said as he picked up his case and turned to leave.

"Ethan." Brian said, without realizing it was the first time he'd actually used the kid's name.

The young man turned and faced Brian again.

"Do you think…I mean… is he coming back?" The older man hoped Ethan would give him an answer. What was one more inappropriate question at this point?

"I don't know." Ethan looked down at the floor for a second and then back at Brian. "I doubt it." With that he turned and walked out of the bar and towards home. He had things to do and this conversation made him realize it was time to get on them.

"I told you it was him!" Ted exclaimed as he and Emmett stood looking after a retreating Ethan. "I _knew _it!"

"Okay, so it was him." Emmett agreed stepping back in line to see their movie. "Maybe it was a coincidence."

"That Brian is sitting in a pub with his ex-boyfriend's gorgeous new lover?" Ted demanded. "I don't think so. The enigmatic Mr. Kinney is up to something."

"Probably the usual." Emmett guessed, then gasped, "He's planning to seduce him!"

"Oh my God." Ted said. "You might be right."

"It might make sense in Brian world." Emmett suggested. "It would repair his battered ego _and _get back at Justin."

Ted shook his head. "We are _totally _overreacting."

"Yeah, but it's fun, isn't it?"

"For now, how about we have less fun that involves the tangled web Brian Kinney weaves and concentrate on us." Ted suggested.

"Good idea." Emmett agreed. "I think it's so sweet that you wanted to take me on an actual date."

"Well, we never really did it." Ted said. "We skipped that part, so I thought it would be nice to do it now."

"Absolutely." Emmett nodded. "And there's nothing more exciting than a first date. All those questions people ask. What's your favorite food? What's your favorite color? If you could come back as any item of clothing, what would it be and why?" He turned to look at Ted. "If you were asked that, what would you say?

"Check, please" comes to mind."

xxxx

As he got out of the borrowed car, and started up to the door, Ethan thought back to the last time he'd seen Justin.

They had been saying their good-byes before Justin's trip and most of the visit was pretty light. They'd joked around and talked about art and music, as they usually did, until finally Justin declared he had to go.

He thought hard about those last few minutes; what Justin had said and what he didn't say, and how they probably meant the same thing. After hugging one last time and saying their '_take care_'s, despite his earlier resolutions to the contrary, Ethan ventured, "You know – you might meet someone over there."

"Doubtful." Justin let him know with a single look that this was unlikely in the extreme.

"You never know – some tall, dark stranger that sweeps you off your feet, makes you laugh, understands you. Someone you can love."

"Ethan…"

"I know I know." The young man shook his head as his friend walked out the door and turned to kiss his cheek. "It's just…you're a great person, Justin. You deserve to have someone.

"I can be alone and still be a great person, you know." Justin informed him. "Besides…I don't want to be with anyone right now."

Ethan smiled and waved as he closed the door. "You are such a liar."

"I am such a liar." He heard Justin mutter to himself as he walked down the stairs.

Ethan had gotten to understand a few things about Justin Taylor in the short time they'd known each other. Justin tried very hard at times to put on the same kind of callous camouflage that his older lover had maintained, but no matter what he said or did – it had become to clear to Ethan that Justin wanted to be with someone all right. He wanted to be with Brian Kinney. And only Brian Kinney.

Ethan had of course suspected this all along, and having met the man a couple of time, he still didn't know why it was so. That Brian was beautiful was obvious, but what was it about him that held Justin in such thrall - because Ethan knew it was more than just sex. Whatever it was, it might well be mutual, if he were correct about what he saw during the few moments Brian's mask had slipped.

Up until the last couple of weeks, Ethan had somehow hoped that Justin might go across the ocean, get his head screwed on - you should excuse the expression – straight, and then come back to be with he and Wolfram. He knew it was unlikely, impossible even, but he hadn't entirely given up hope. Until now. And he was proving it to himself by finally getting on with a few things.

He returned his mind to his errand and rang the bell, then waited while the door was opened. "Hi Mrs. Taylor."

"Hello Ethan." She smiled. "Come on in. Is it very heavy?"

"Not too bad, but maybe you'd like me to just put it right in his room?"

"That'd be great, honey…thanks." She nodded. "Top of the stairs on the left. Excuse me – I have to round up Molly and get her to her Dad's."

Ethan mounted the thickly carpeted stairs, while Justin's mother went outside in search of his sister. The room was a little untidy, but that was Justin for you. 'No, not for _you._' He reminded himself, as he put the box down. As he took in his surroundings, he allowed himself to be gratified that there were pictures of him up among those of other people Justin cared about. Among his friends. Well, that was definitely something, at least.

He glanced around the room once more and took in the rumpled bed, which looked suspiciously like a child had been jumping on it. He observed, too, the cluttered bookshelf with sketchpads and pencils scattered by it, CD player on top, right over a row of Stephen King and Anne Rice. Ethan turned to go and noticed a box in the corner not very large in size, marked _Brian._

He tried to ignore the wheels turning in his head, but couldn't quite manage it. He walked towards the door and pondered what a _friend _would do? He stopped a moment and looked back. A real friend, he decided, would follow his impulse and then trust the rest to fate.

He hesitated only a second before doing just that, and then went down to exchange pleasantries with Justin's mother, before heading home to finally call the guy who's number he had taken at the 4th of July concert. Time to get with the getting on.

When he woke up the next morning, Brian felt better. He'd done a little thinking last night as he'd sat in the pub waiting to sober up, and consuming a surprisingly decent salad. All he had to do at the office today was sign a few things and scare the crap out of one or two employees before leaving. Vance wasn't even in, so Brian had assumed he'd have plenty of time to come home and pack before heading to the Munchers' for dinner.

His thoughts of the night before had been on his upcoming trip and how it might not be the trial he'd originally thought. Okay, so he was tired of traveling, but he'd be there for an extended period of time and it wasn't the five clients in two days stuff he had been doing. This would be completely different. He'd basically be running the show over there for awhile, building the concept and maybe even doing the execution from France. That meant no Vance hovering over his shoulder, for starters. From what he recalled of Michaud, the man would be interesting to work with. Those were definitely incentives worth considering. Of course, there was also no Gus to see whenever he wanted, but Lindsay would email him pictures every day if he asked. There was also the bonus of no well-meaning friends to harass him on matters he preferred they ignore. No places around town or the loft to remind him of what was missing in his life.

He'd give anything not to be reminded of that, so he hoped that if he were in completely different surroundings for a while, perhaps he could ditch this enduring ache.

That possibility filled him with cheer for the first time in a long time. So much so, that despite his continued annoyance with Michael, he decided to stop by the diner for lunch and make nice with everyone before leaving tomorrow. Well… his version of nice.

"What's in the garment bag?" Ted asked as Brian walked up to them.

"Defying all odds, a garment?" Brian responded, hanging up his last minute dry cleaning over a stool. "So boys…" He threw an arm around each for a moment, before sitting at the counter. "How are the love birds today?" He inquired, sounding vaguely sincere. "Still all hearts and flowers are we?"

Ted and Emmett both looked at each other and shook their heads. What was with the chipper routine? Brian had been sullen at best for the last little while.

"You're in a good mood today." Debbie commented.

Brian picked up a lemon square. "Why shouldn't I be?" He took a bite and put it on the plate in front of him.

Ted looked at him. "For starters, it's going to rain again, the jobless rate's up, and about two minutes ago Emmett sneezed on those lemon squares."

Brian spit the bite in his mouth into a napkin and pushed the plate away. "Well I'm leaving the weather here, I _have _a job, and pretty soon I'll be eating fresh croissants – minus the sneezing."

"So, what did you get up to last night, Brian?" Emmett asked, clearly brimming with curiosity.

Brian assumed from Emmett's knowing air that they had heard about his tiff with Michael and intended to interfere. He couldn't believe Michael had bitched about him already. He'd been hoping to talk to his friend and make up before it became a really big deal. Now everyone knew and it had been blown out of proportion.

"The usual." Brian said casually. "Some brilliant Ad work followed by a few drinks and some brilliant fucking."

"I knew it!" Emmett exclaimed.

"Knew what?" Debbie asked as she came up.

"Brian fucked Ethan!" Ted burst out.

Debbie and Brian spoke simultaneously and in equally horrified tones. _"What?_!"

Brian was about to protest but Debbie spoke first. "Just when I think you've gone as low as you can go, you find a basement door!" She followed the remark with a smack to the head.

"Hey." Brian interrupted, rubbing the spot. "Not that what or who I do is anyone's business… but I certainly did _not _fuck the musician."

"But we saw you…" Ted told him. "Through the window at a bar downtown."

"You were right next to him." Emmett offered as proof.

"Fucking him?" Brian raised an eyebrow.

"Well, no…" Ted admitted. "But…I mean, we just…"

"Lost your fucking minds?" Brian supplied.

"Well, it did look odd." Emmett defended. "He's your ex…boyfriend's lover, after all."

"What were you doing, then?" Debbie inquired.

"What would _anyone _be doing next to an ex's lover?" Brian stated the obvious. "I was drinking heavily, of course."

At their persistent silence he gave a brief explanation. "I was in the neighborhood, stopped for a couple drinks and he walked in after playing nearby. We spoke for a minute. He left. I had a salad. Would you like the weather report now?"

"And that's all." Debbie was skeptical. "You were just in the same bar, outside Liberty, through coincidence."

"Exactly."

"Do you expect me to believe that story?"

"I don't know," Brian shrugged. "I've never tried it before."

Debbie was obviously frustrated. "Brian, may I please have some _answers?_!"

"Montana, forty-five degrees and all of the above." He responded. "Look Deb, there was nothing to it – end of fucking discussion. Now could we find something else to talk about?"

"Fine." Debbie could switch gears in a microsecond. "You make up with Michael before you boys give me an ulcer." She admonished. "You're too old for this shit."

"Well as long as you're accusing me of immaturity… he started it."

"That's not true Brian…you should let him explain." Debbie advised. _"And _you should apologize."

"Coffee – black." He vetoed this topic too. "Please." He added with a smile.

She went to get the coffee, shaking her head and mumbling about childish behavior. As soon as she retrieved the pot, Michael opened the diner door and located his friends. He hesitated, then walked over to the group and sat as far away from Brian as he could, uttering a general. "Hey."

"Hi Baby." Debbie greeted him with a big smile. "What'll it be?"

Michael consulted the board and decided. "The special sounds good."

"Coming right up." She moved down to pour Brian's coffee. "Brian, don't you have something to say to Michael?"

"Sure. Want a lemon square?"

Michael went to take one until Emmett whispered in his ear. Michael put down his hand and glared, while Brian smirked.

Debbie decided she'd had enough of both of them. Brian was uncommunicative and Michael was too sensitive, and they were both brats. She stalked around the counter and grabbed a startled Brian by the ear, barely registered his, _"Ow!" _and then grabbed Michael in the same fashion, ignored his embarrassed, _"Mom!" _and marched them both over to the men's room.

"I haven't had to resort to this since you were fourteen, but it doesn't seem as though you've matured much since then… so what the hell." With that she pushed them both into the men's room and leaned against the door. "Don't come out until you're ready to act like grownups."

Ted and Emmett huddled in silence at the counter while the rest of the diner slowly went back to its business under Debbie's insistent glare. "Man," Ted whispered to his lover. "I'm glad she's not _my _mom."

Emmett nodded.

Inside the small bathroom Brian and Michael looked everywhere but at each other. Finally Brian wandered over to the sink and began to wash his hands. "Your mom is insane." He offered mildly, an echo of how he'd broken the ice the last time they did this.

"No shit." Michael added his contribution to the déjà vu. He walked over and began to wash his hands too and then caught Brian's eyes in the mirror. "It honestly wasn't my idea, Brian, and for what it's worth I'm not happy about it either." He hoped his friend believed him. "Justin left me with no choice if I wanted him to keep illustrating."

"Why?" Brian asked. "Did he say anything about…anything?"

Michael was not looking forward to spelling out the whole thing, but was relieved in a way, since he would have had to bring it up sooner or later. "He came to see me before he left and said he would continue if I wanted him to, but that he had some conditions and they weren't negotiable." Michael told him. "That was one of them."

Brian had a feeling he didn't want to know, but asked regardless. "What were the others?"

"He won't work at the store anymore. I have to email him the story line and then he draws it and sends it back. We do all our editing by email." Michael shrugged. "It's not ideal, but it works."

Brian guessed it would. He did a lot of copy approvals by email when traveling, and sometimes preferred it because he didn't have to deal with the actual people, just ideas. He suspected a similar motivation was at work here, but not on Michael's part.

"Any other conditions?"

"So far just one." Michael would be glad to have this conversation over with. He decided that he liked it better when he wasn't allowed to mention the kid at all. "He won't take any of his royalties from the comic until the loan to you is paid off in full."

"What?" Brian cried. "That's stupid. We have an agreement that says he doesn't even have to start repaying it until after he graduates and gets a job."

"I don't know anything about that, Brian." Michael shook his head. "All I know is that once I email him a scanned copy of the deposit to your account, then he'll accept future royalties, but not before."

"You have to scan the deposit slip?" Brian was perplexed.

"Maybe he was afraid you would try to refuse it." Michael guessed - accurately.

"That little shit!" Brian exclaimed.

Michael was confused. Brian had said nothing against Justin the entire time they had been broken up. No mean comments about the cheating or the lying, but the kid tries to legitimately pay back a loan and Brian is mad? What the fuck?

"What's the big deal?" Michael asked. "He's just trying to be responsible for himself. I think that's pretty cool for a kid his age."

Brian just leaned against the sink and thought to himself for a moment. It was obvious that Justin was attempting to cut any possible tie he might have to Brian. Already this week Jennifer Taylor had left a message saying she had a box of things Justin had said were his. Now Justin was eliminating any remaining connections. Had it been that bad, really? Had Brian been so truly awful that Justin didn't want anything to do with him? In any capacity?

"Brian?" Michael tried to get his friend's attention. "Are you okay?"

Brian was silent a moment more. "Mikey." He began. "Would you tell me something – not as my best friend, but just as someone who knows what I'm like?"

"Okay." Michael was confused at this seemingly abrupt change in conversational direction.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?"

Michael considered the question. It seemed that Brian truly wanted to know and maybe he wasn't doing his friend any favors by making excuses for him this time. "Not a bad person, no, but you can be pretty thoughtless sometimes, Brian." He said patiently. "And you're pretty much only able to see things from your own perspective." Michael tried to explain that he understood. "You always mean well though – I know that, and I think it has to count for a lot." He clarified. "It counts for a lot with me."

"I appreciate that, Mikey." Brian looked at him. "But just meaning well isn't really enough, is it."

"No." Michael agreed, understanding now where this was going. "But it might have been if you had maybe tried a little harder to explain things to him. To explain yourself."

Brian didn't bother pretending not to understand whom his friend referred to. "I didn't know where to start, I guess." He admitted.

"How about with the fact that you love him?"

"Come on, Michael, do you think saying that really changes anything? Honestly?" Brian was skeptical.

"Maybe not." Michael admitted. "But how much did _not _saying it change things?" He left his question unanswered. He didn't know how much he could really do to help Brian right now anyway. Maybe waiting until Brian asked for help was the way to go. The man certainly seemed more likely to listen when he approached first.

Brian pondered Michael's statement until there was a pounding on the bathroom door. "Christ, haven't you two made up yet?" Debbie shouted. "There are people out here whose coffee has kicked in."

They laughed. "I'm really sorry about last night." Michael volunteered.

"Me too." Brian agreed, as both men made for the door. "One more thing…" Brian put his hand on his friend's arm. _"Eviscerated, _Mikey?"

Michael paused, then nodded in recognition. "Emmett bought word of the day toilet paper."

"Of course."

~~

Well, that had taken a little longer than expected. It seemed that everyone had some last minute question for him, or copy to sign off on - especially since Vance was away. That, at first, seemed like a bonus, but had turned out to be a huge pain in the ass. At least he still had a few hours to pack before heading over to see Gus.

Brian mounted the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. It was the least he could do, since he'd been too busy to see his trainer for the last week. Just the treadmill and crunches at home were not going to cut it. He'd better make sure there was a decent Gym close to his hotel.

As he reached the landing and got out his keys, he looked up at his door to see a box in front of it. He walked right to it when he got to the top of the stairs and noticed that his name was written on it in Justin's hand. His breath caught in his throat for a minute. Had Justin come back and brought this by?

A cleared throat by the elevator supplied his answer.

"I'm sorry to startle you." Jennifer said as Brian turned to face her. "I didn't know when you'd be home, and I thought it would be safe enough to leave it there."

"I…no, it's fine." Brian stammered, completely caught off guard. "Uh, did you... want to come in?"

He turned to open the door, having no idea why he'd asked that and found himself further amazed by her response.

"That would be nice, thank you."

After sliding open the door, Brian picked up the box, walked in and put it down just inside. "Would you like something to drink?" Brian asked, thinking 'because God knows I would'.

"A glass of water would be lovely, if its not too much trouble."

Jesus, she was polite. He never ceased to be amazed at Jennifer's knack for seeming in control under all circumstances. It occurred to him suddenly, that they shared that ability. And he realized too that he was a little jealous of what he perceived to be her superior skill. Where he came off cold and uncaring, she simply came off as unflappable. It'd be nice to see her…flap for a change. However, if asking whether she wanted him to fuck her teenage son hadn't done it, he doubted anything would.

He shrugged off his jacket then got out a glass while she surreptitiously inspected the spartan loft. After he handed the water to her and went in search of something stronger for himself, she spoke. "I understand you'll be going to Paris for awhile."

"You've been talking with Deb, I take it."

"No, Melanie." Jennifer corrected him. "I called to see if she had discussed Justin with you."

"And did she tell you that I don't feel equipped to function as moral compass for you ladies in this matter?" Brian asked. "There's usually only one thing about me pointing due North."

Jennifer ignored his attempt to annoy her and asked hopefully, "Have you heard from him at all?"

"Not since he walked out." Brian told her. "For which, I assume, you were incredibly grateful."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you." Jennifer smiled and shook her head. "I certainly expected to be. Although all the times I imagined it ending - I didn't think he'd be the one doing the walking. Especially not after…after what happened last year." Jennifer's hand shook slightly as she put her glass down on the counter. You probably wouldn't notice it unless that topic inspired in you a similar reaction.

There was really nothing to say in the face of her candor, so they stood there a moment in silence – feeling awkward and fighting not to show it.

"I never thanked you." Jennifer finally said. "For saving him."

Brian turned his back and fussed with something on the counter. "I wasn't fast enough to save him and as you've pointed out before, I shouldn't even have been there."

"I was upset when I said that and anyway…I meant the second time." She clarified. "I know the reason that he was strong enough to walk away from you, was because you made him that way again."

She walked over and put her hand on Brian's arm very lightly for a second. "And for that, I _am _incredibly grateful." She turned from him and stood by the couch, waiting for any reaction from the man. "I believe you've always had his best interest at heart, Brian and that's why … I need to ask you a favor."

"Yeah, that never really ends well for me, does it."

"Well, it's nothing quite so drastic this time I hope." She promised. "I was hoping you would email him."

"To say what?"

"I don't know…try to get a sense of what he's thinking. You seem to read him so well and you're one of the few who are able to handle him."

"First of all," Brian pointed out. "I doubt he'd reply. And secondly, maybe the reason he's still over there is to avoid being _handled. _He's too mature to be treated that way, Jennifer."

It occurred to Brian that although he had never consciously referred to it as such, he was just as guilty of thinking that Justin had to be handled in some way all the time. _Welcome to hypocrite city, sweetheart_, his conscience declared.

"I didn't mean it like…" Jennifer was a little offended.

"Yeah…you did." Brian interrupted. "But you aren't even the worst offender, so don't worry. I did more than my fair share of trying to manage his life to suit me – why do you think he left?"

Well, this was something she hadn't intended to bring up, but since he'd already done so, _"Is _that why he left?" She asked quietly. "He would never say anything about it – just that it wasn't your fault."

"Not the only reason. Brian said briskly. "Listen, no offense, but I've recently had to nix this topic with my own mother. Re-visiting it with my ex-lover's mom is a little much – even for me."

"I'm sorry," She apologized. "I'm just trying to find out anything that will tell me what Justin is up to right now."

"You really don't think he's planning on coming back for school?" Brian found it hard to believe, given how badly Justin had wanted to stay at IFA last year.

"I really don't." She confirmed. "Maybe I'm wrong, but it's just a sense I get. I'm pretty sure that as a parent I don't have to explain my paranoia – I just get to act on it."

"Well, when Gus is allowed to cross the street by himself, I guess I'll find out." Brian shrugged. "In the mean time – what is it you hope to accomplish? What if he does plan to stay? Do you really think you can do anything about it?"

"No – but I think you could." Jennifer said plainly.

Brian shook his head. "I am the last person who should be telling Justin how to live his life. And about the last he'd listen to."

"Maybe so." She agreed. "But would you try? Please?"

Brian sighed. This kinder, gentler version of himself, that was too tired to tell people to fuck off, was starting to get on his nerves. "All right." He caved. "I'll email him in a week or two, when I can legitimately be asking about him needing a tuition cheque. He'll have to at least reply to tell me whether he needs it or not. Then we'll see, okay?"

Her relief that Brian had agreed was obvious and he felt guilty accepting her gratitude when she was merely giving him the perfect excuse to do exactly what he wanted to; namely, find out what the hell was going on with the kid. He would feel like an idiot, but that was a price he was now willing to pay to make sure Justin was all right.

Maybe he'd even see about a little vacation after getting Michaud up and running. God knows he deserved it, and he got the impression that Monsieur Michaud had handed him a rather large bargaining chip to wear on his shoulder when Vance was around. He didn't think time off would be a problem.

An appreciative Jennifer finally left so that he could pack and then visit Gus. He managed to get it all done, as well as take a shower and change. Anything he forgot he could easily buy there and if all went well - he was planning on spending a good chunk of his bonus on a new wardrobe.

He put the bags by the door for easy access in the morning. He hated having to scramble at the last minute. Justin had always driven him nuts by constantly forgetting something whenever Brian would try to get him out the door for anything. Justin.

Brian had not even looked in the box yet. He saw it there near his bags, and it looked like there wasn't much in it. Just a few T-shirts, that kind of thing probably. He wasn't sure he wanted to go though it right away. The whole reason he was looking forward to this extended absence was to be someplace where nothing would remind him of Justin. So he picked the box up and went to put it away for now.

As he put it on the floor of the closet, and prepared to shove it to the back, he noticed a book that slipped down the side a little, partly covered in clothes. Well, why not. He hadn't got to this one before, and the title amused him. Also he hadn't picked up anything to read on the plane yet. He rarely slept on flights, even when they were long. And the movies were usually as bland as the food. He walked back to the door and stuffed the book into the pocket of his carryon, then put on his shoes to head to the munchers.

Dinner had been lasagna, not too heavy on the garlic so that Gus could have some with them. Not that it mattered, since he got most of it on his head. However, he was in a good mood and very happy to spend time with his Dada. Surprisingly, even after three hours at the munchers' Brian was in no hurry to leave, though he had planned to drop by Babylon before going home tonight and then getting a few hours sleep before his trip to the airport. Lindsay was driving him, since Michael was going to some special lecture Ben was giving.

He and Michael had said their good-byes earlier, with Brian promising to email regularly and to call Michael if he wanted to talk. He doubted he would since the appeal of going away for an extended period of time would be that he didn't have to think about life here for a while. Right now his regular surroundings still did nothing but remind him of how strange life without Justin was going to be.

As Gus played at his feet, Brian really looked at the little boy. He honestly seemed to get bigger every time Brian saw him. He knew how cliché that was, but now he knew why –because it was true. How much would Gus change in just a few weeks of not seeing him? He would still remember Brian, right? He pulled out a bag and asked Lindsay, "Now?"

"Fine."

Brian pulled out a brightly wrapped package. "Look Gus – Dada has a present for you. You won't forget me if I'm gone for awhile, will you?"

Lindsay, saw the gift for what it was, naturally. "Brian! You're bribing your son with a toy?"

"Ah, c'mon, Linds, isn't bribe just another word for love?"

"You realize that whatever is in the box isn't likely to be more interesting to him than the paper, right?" Melanie pointed out. "And the more money you spent, the more likely he is to prefer the paper."

"Only interested in a pretty package – just like Daddy." Brian said. "I'm surprised you didn't beat me to that one, Mel."

She was a little startled at Brian's bitter tone. "I guess I'm a little slow today. I missed it."

Lindsay seemed to understand whatever it was that Mel didn't, because she came behind Brian and said, "Don't be silly. That hasn't been true for a long time." She admonished. "You're interested in much more than that. Why, I consider you downright deep, now." She teased him.

Melanie watched as Brian looked at her wife with an unguarded expression. "It doesn't seem to be doing me much good."

"It will.' Lindsay said. "He'll come back and you'll talk. All this distance will be good for him – help him figure out a few things."

Brian ignored her commentary for the most part, but did ask, "Have you heard from him?"

"Not for awhile." Mel interjected, as if in the interest of fair play, to remind Brian that she was here.

"Not since I sent him Guy's number in Paris. That was quite some time ago and he was going to Spain after that I thought." Lindsay volunteered.

"Guy?" Brian asked, hoping he had misunderstood. "As in, Guilliame the pretentious, French gigolo?"

"The same." Melanie confirmed. "As you can imagine, that was not a plan I advocated."

"Why would you send him to see that asshole?"

Lindsay glared at them. "Guilliame is a perfectly nice man and I thought he might be able to show Justin around Paris. Besides, it's always nice to know someone when you're far from home."

Brian looked at Melanie. "How could you let her do that?"

Melanie held up her hands. "Oh, because _you _can say no to her?"

"Hey – still in the room." Lindsay picked up the phone as it rang. "Hello?" She walked around the corner on the portable and continued talking.

Melanie started to pick up some glasses and put them on the sideboard as she watched Brian play with Gus. He so obviously adored the child that it had caused her to rethink a few of her more censorious opinions of him. Of course, he still didn't have an emotional marble in his head, but she would allow that he usually meant well.

Like now. Lindsay had teased him about bribing his son, but Melanie didn't blame him. What must it be like; to have agreed to this arrangement, and then find out you loved the little thing? To know that this was going to be your only child – and you had to worry about whether he'd remember who you are. She had a brief scare in that department and had Brian to thank for averting disaster. He wouldn't believe it, but she probably hated that fact almost as much as he did.

"Come on, sonny boy," Brian whispered. "Say Dada. Come on… please?"

Melanie smiled. Gus was proving frustrating in that regard for her too. She watched Brian continue to coax the toddler. "Dada. Da. Da. No? That's okay, Gus. I'm not much of a Dad, anyway. I suck at relationships - ask around. You might as well learn to call me asshole right now." The man laughed.

Melanie had heard Brian make disparaging comments about his fatherhood abilities before and, many times, thought he was not half as hard on himself as was warranted. For some reason, this time his words bothered her. She couldn't say what was different – just that now they made her feel sad.

"Well, I don't believe it." Lindsay breezed back in the room. "Rhonda, from two streets over, Caroline's mother? She says they finally got that meeting with the city counselor about the park zoning, but it's got to be nine tomorrow or not until next week." She looked at Brian. "I'm sorry – I really wanted to go to that."

"It's okay." Brian assured her as he stood up and got ready to go. "I'll have no trouble figuring something out."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll take you." Melanie interrupted.

"What's this, an outburst of charity?" Brian asked. "Why would you volunteer to help?"

You're leaving town right?"

"So?"

"You'll be gone for awhile…not likely to drop in unannounced for a few weeks at least…"

"I see. "Brian nodded in understanding. "Just making sure I leave. Okay, pick me up at eight." He turned. "On second thought – I'll come by here and we'll take the jeep."

"What's wrong with our car?"

"Where should I start?" Brian scoffed "I am not going _anywhere _in that monument to Murphy's law."

xxxx

Justin passed the café and was surprised to see a few candles lit near the bar. He tried the door and found it open. "Fee?"

"And who else would it be at this hour?" She popped up from behind the bar.

"What are you doing?"

"Havin' a cuppa, lad."

"At," he checked his watch. "five fifteen in the morning?"

"Is that the time?" She asked. "I'm late. Blasted kettle."

"What's going on?" Justin asked. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh it is, it is." She assured him. "I was just after having my morning tea and didn't my kettle give up the ghost. I've had to come down and fire up the coffee machine for hot water, but it's taking forever to warm up. Marc generally minds the infernal thing."

"Let me see." Justin came around the bar. "We had one sort of like this at the diner back home… here you forgot to flip this switch too. Both power and water have to be pressed on."

"We need them both to make the stuff, why can't they just put one switch and stop trying to confuse me."

Justin shrugged. "No idea."

"And how was your run?" Fiona asked, his appearance indicating that he had. "Shouldn't you be in bed after that?"

"I don't feel tired yet." Justin said. "Usually it works, but not today."

"Well, I prefer it to your other prescription." Fiona admonished. "Drinking like a fish and shagging a fellow you don't even know doesn't strike me as a particularly good way to go about getting a decent night's rest."

"As long as I get some sleep, I don't care how it comes."

"Have some tea, now that the wretched thing has warmed up, and tell me why you aren't finding sleep so easily these days. I thought you had started to feel a bit better." Fee was lying, of course. She'd seen through his efforts at pretending to improve, and she knew very well that he'd just become more adept at hiding his melancholy.

"I was. I just…I've been thinking about things. You know – my direction and stuff and…I don't think I'm meant for the kind of life I had planned at home. I thought it was what I wanted but I was wrong. It's not something I can do."

"What was so terrible about it?"

"It was…I can't explain it. It's just that I don't feel trapped here, like I did there. I feel like here I can just be myself and no one expects anything from me."

"Oh, you're preachin' to the choir, Luv." Fiona nodded. "I know exactly what you mean."

"You do?"

"Absolutely, but that's another story, and one that requires scotch, not tea." She smiled and poured him a cup. "So, what is it about these thoughts that keep you up at night?"

"I guess I feel guilty – my mother will be upset."

Fiona started to laugh.

"What?" Justin frowned. "That's funny?"

"It's funny that you expect me to believe that you are torturing yourself o' nights over what your _mother _thinks." Fiona laughed again. "No nineteen year old boy, however much he loves his mother, will make himself such a mess as you are, because he feels badly over worrying her. You're a young man – it's your god given duty to worry her."

"There may be a little more to the whole insomnia thing than that, I suppose."

"I suppose, indeed." Fiona wagged her finger at him. "You're brooding over not seeing your Brian again, or I miss my guess."

Justin sighed. "He was never _my _Brian."

"As you like," She continued. "But did you never think to call him, or write a note maybe?"

"Thought about it - yes. Thought it was a good idea – no."

"Why ever not?" Fiona asked.

"I've tried to talk about love with Brian before and he…"

"You what?" Fiona interrupted. "Justin you can't _talk _about love. Talking about love is like riding a bicycle about fine wine."

"Huh?'

"Exactly."

Justin took a sip of his tea. "Look, despite what I tried to fool myself into thinking, Brian warned me from day one that he …walked with a limp, okay? He doesn't do love and I finally get why. He was right the whole time and I should've listened to him."

"Hmm." Fiona mused.

"Hmm, what?" Justin groused. "You know I hate it when you do that, Fee."

"I was thinking that you've got to do your own growing no matter how tall your grandfather was."

"Please tell me there's an English translation of that, and that it isn't some obscure dig about Brian's age." Justin said. "You know I don't understand it when you get all Gaelic on me."

"It _was _in English, brat and you know I've no quarrel with older men." Fiona shook her head. "What it means, is that it's necessary to learn things based on your own experience of life and love – not someone else's."

"I am." Justin claimed, having finally confirmed his decision just now. "And I'm staying. I'm making a decent amount of money and I'm going to look into some art courses at the University. My French is passable; I could take a couple of them.

"I'm sure you could." Fiona watched and listened as the lad talked himself out of wanting to go home. There was no point in saying anything to the contrary. Obviously this was a phase he needed to go through, even if it was a colossal mistake. And as for how he professed to view love – it made her sad, but there was nothing she could say. He had obviously decided to have a life without it and convinced himself that's what he'd wanted all along.

She wished she could interfere and make his path a little easier for him. She liked this young man very much and he'd quickly become one of her favorite lost kittens. However, she couldn't interfere – she knew that. It never worked. All she could do was be a good friend and hope that Providence was watching over the lad.

"Jennifer came to see me last night." Now that they'd covered Gus and the guys, Brian opened a new conversation to kill the almost finished, half-hour drive.

"Please tell me you were reasonably civil."

"Define reasonable."

"What did she say?"

"She seems to be under the erroneous impression that what I think holds any sway with her son and she wants me to exert my hypothetical influence to get him to come home."

"And?"

"And I said I'd email him about school in a couple weeks and then we'd see."

"I can't believe that she actually came over and asked you." Melanie was surprised. "She must really be desperate."

""I would assume so." Brian said. "Hopefully things will never get so bleak with Gus that _you'll _have to ask for my help."

Melanie didn't comment on his last remark. He assumed her silence was agreement – they both knew he was no father of the year. But actually Melanie was remembering him with Gus last night and how he'd told the child he was no good at relationships.

"So," Brian changed the topic. "You can drive the Jeep around until I get back, but you should use the time to get your hunk of junk in for a serious overhaul. I don't like to think of my son riding around in it."

"It's not that bad." Melanie changed into the airport lane.

"Just take it to my garage, okay? I gave Lindsay the card. The guy won't rob you at least."

Brian tightened his seat belt as Melanie gestured out the Jeep window and changed lanes again. "Nice signal, asshole!"

"Jesus, will you be careful?" He begged. "My insurance doesn't cover PMS."

She appeared, to Brian, to be struggling with something. A couple times he thought she was about to speak, but…nothing. He knew he was going to regret this. "What?"

"Look, Brian – you and I have pretty much agreed to loathe one another unceasingly, so call this a momentary lapse of sanity on my part."

Brian looked at her in confusion.

"I bitched a lot about you as the choice for Gus's father." Brian seemed about to interrupt, so she raised her hand. "Just… hear me out." When he closed his mouth and sat back she continued. "It bothered me for a variety of reasons, but mostly because I was afraid that you were too selfish; too irresponsible." She paused and gathered her thoughts. "But you've really come though for Gus and Lindsay...and by extension me, pretty consistently." She glanced over at him for a second. "I'm glad you're Gus' father and I'll be happy if he grows up to have the sense of responsibility and loyalty that you have. It's better than most people's. There are a _few _things to admire about you, if even I can see them."

Brian had no idea what to say to these revelations. He was spared the need to say anything as Melanie continued. "You're a good friend, you've become a decent father and I'm sure that with some work you'd be good at romantic relationships too."

"What makes you think that's a skill that I'm dying to have?"

Instead of answering him Melanie said, "Remember when I first started dating Lindsay? I know she came and bitched about my lack of emotional communication skills at the time. And I wouldn't have to know you very well to guess that whatever you may have told her – inwardly you probably sympathized with _me._"

Brian made a noise that implied the affirmative.

"I'll tell you a secret: It wasn't that couldn't communicate. I could… if I had to. I just didn't like it." She glanced over to make sure he was still listening and continued. "You know what else? I still don't like to talk the way she does. In fact, I hate it even more if that's possible, but you know what I don't hate? Being with Lindsay and Gus. I fucking love that. There is nothing that isn't worth the joy I get from having them in my life." She paused. "I saw you Brian. I saw how you were with Justin the past year or so. I may have thought you handled things badly, that you're too old for him and definitely too jaded, but one thing I _never _thought, is that you didn't love him."

Brian all but admitted it was true. "He didn't think so."

"He did once." She insisted. "I remember it. We all remember it – the kid wouldn't fucking shut up about you no matter what shitty thing you'd done. Talk about tenacious. It seemed like nothing could convince him that you weren't meant to be together. But Brian…" She faltered. "The more I had to go over those depositions for the suit, and the doctors accounts, the research on the lasting effect an event like that can have on a person, the more I realized that we expected _way _the fuck too much from that kid. And probably from you."

"What do you mean?"

"He tried to pick up his life right where it left off and we all just assumed he had. Didn't you? I certainly did. I know Lindsay did. But there is no way that is possible. His way of looking at things had to change and he was probably confused about a lot . I think we could agree that he made some poor choices too, but I am certain that he was never confused about his love for you, maybe just about how to deal with it. So despite what I think – what anybody thinks - if you do get a chance to talk with him and you can figure out some scenario that makes both of you happy… " She pulled into the drop off lane and came to a stop. "..you should tell anyone who doesn't understand it to go fuck themselves." She turned to him and smiled. "Cause I know how much you enjoy that."

Brian got out and grabbed his bags from the back. "Thanks for the ride, Mel." He slammed the door and walked into the terminal.

**VI ~ The Lovers**: This card is about choices, duality, and decisions that sometimes concern a love affair. It points to changes in a relationship, adjustments in your love life, a choice between security and some kind of personal risk. Part of the Lover's work is to make us aware of the duality of our own natures and how it affects our close personal relationships.

In a reading: Either a new relationship is just around the corner or a current relationship is about to go through some major changes. You feel divided about a major issue and or relationship in your life. Your heart whispers one tale, your head screams another. There is always danger of a wrong choice, but one needs to be especially prudent when this card appears. Counsel, if it is heeded, will often point the way to a wise choice.


	9. The Chariot

Dear Readers, your feedback is so appreciated and is basically why I post these. Please review!

_xxxx_

_**Ding **_  
_  
Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has now switched off the fasten seat belt sign. However, we ask that you please remain in your seat until the aircraft has come to a complete stop at the terminal building. The local time is 6:28am and the weather is partly cloudy, with a temperature of 19 degrees Celsius. On behalf of the Captain and Crew we would like to thank you for flying Air France and we hope you will enjoy your stay in Paris._

Mesdames et messieurs, le capitaine a maintenant commuté outre du signe de ceinture de sécurité. Cependant, nous demanderions que vous veuillez rester dans votre siège…

As they continued with the French translation Brian began to organize himself. He didn't feel the need to stand up and congregate in the aisle like the rest of the passengers. That was the nice thing about first class – you were pretty close to the exits and you never had to feel like part of the herd. Okay, so he'd become a bit of an elitist, but there had been so many years where he didn't fly anywhere at all, never mind first class, that he decided he deserved to enjoy it a little.

He couldn't believe how quickly the flight had gone by. That was a first. The blow job he'd allowed the cute flight attendant to give him had relaxed him enough to actually sleep most of the way and, thankfully, he had even missed the meal service. He wasn't conscious of feeling hungry, just out of sorts. He needed to retrieve his bags and then he'd be met by a driver and taken to his hotel. Michaud had undertaken to arrange everything at this end.

Half an hour and several customs questions later, he grabbed the last piece from the luggage carousel and suddenly had a flash of: _What the fuck am I doing here_? Maybe he was still dazed from the fact that when he'd got on the plane in New York it had been about five in the afternoon and one lengthy nap later had found him someplace where it was now seven in the morning. And despite the sleep - he still didn't feel rested. Thank God he had all of today before he'd have to deal with anything important.

Or maybe not…

"Brian!" He heard a voice call his name.

Brian was shocked that the executive had come to meet him in person. "Monsieur Michaud."

"I thought it was agreed the last time we met, that you are to call me Gilles." The man chided as he shook Brian's hand. "How was your flight?"

"It seemed surprisingly brief."

"I'm certain you're tired, though." Gilles guessed. "The time difference takes a little out of you, even when you do it with some frequency."

"I do feel a bit out of it." Brian admitted.

"Hardly surprising." Michaud grabbed a bag and nodded. "You'll want to go straight to your hotel of course. I think you'll enjoy it, but we can always change it, if you prefer."

Brian remembered all too well the name of the hotel that Michaud had suggested and he suspected either the man's investigation into his work included his sexual preferences, or it was a _very _amusing coincidence. He'd wait and see. "I'm sure that whatever you've chosen is fine, Gilles." Brian had to force himself to use the man's first name now that he was working for him.

Even to someone with Brian's confidence, a man who had that kind of money and power was a little intimidating. It might be different if the guy were an asshole or something, maybe then Brian wouldn't…care. But he found himself having real respect for Gilles Michaud.

"My driver is just circling. They don't allow anyone to idle outside the terminals these days, no matter what kind of car they have. It should be around shortly though."

"That's great." Brian managed. He was still astounded that the man had met him at the airport…on a Sunday no less. "I must confess, I'm surprised to see you here."

"I want to make sure we start off on the right foot, Brian. I intend to work very closely with you on this project."

"I'll look forward to it." Brian didn't think that his face betrayed his dubious thoughts at the prospect, so he was astonished again by the man's next statement.

"I realize that might ordinarily be a less than desirable state of affairs - having the client hanging over your shoulder as it were. But I assure you that we are going to work very well together. I think we'll find that many of our views will mesh nicely, so I am looking forward to it and hope that you will enjoy it as well. Ah…here is Bernard now."

The obliging Bernard gathered Brian's bags, after getting out and opening the door for the two gentlemen.

"Thank you." Brian offered, as he got in.

"Thank you, Bernard." Michaud echoed and continued his commentary to Brian. "I will be more than disappointed if you tell me you tried that abominable fare they serve even in first class. I was hoping you would join me for a short breakfast at the hotel before taking the day to rest."

"That's very nice of you." Brian acknowledged. "Was there additional information you'd like me to go over before we start tomorrow?"

"Brian… Brian." Michaud laughed. "That is what I remember most about our brief meeting: Your uncanny ability to focus on the task at hand despite any outside distractions. You're in Paris, man – enjoy it."

Brian gave a bemused smile. "I simply want to be sure I'm well prepared before meeting your executives."

"Something tells me that you are never less than well prepared under all circumstances, my friend." Gilles returned Brian's smile. "I'm sure it's part of what makes you so very good at what you do. I admire your focus."

"Thank you." Brian was used to being well thought of as a businessman, so he was unsure why praise from Gilles Michaud held such significance for him. "I hope you'll continue to think so."

"Let me be honest…." Gilles said conspiratorially. "I don't care for your business partner very much. He strikes me as Machiavellian to say the least, although his reputation as a brilliant ad-man is well established. Even so, I would not have chosen Vanguard were it not for your presence there, Brian. Your reputation is swiftly going to eclipse his, I believe."

Brian couldn't help but finally laugh. "All these compliments before breakfast are going to turn my head, Gilles. This isn't typically how they do business in the States."

"Nor here, sadly." The man agreed. "But I think you'll find I do business a little differently than most people."

"I'm sure that is a sizeable understatement." Brian told him, and then added somewhat cautiously, "In this spirit of unconventionality – do you mind if I ask a question?"

"You find it odd that I'd hire your firm after our meeting at the airport." Gilles guessed.

"Well, in a word… yes."

"I have another word for you." Gilles told him. _"Intuition._"

Brian was confused. "I'm sorry?"

"I had a…hunch, I believe you might call it." Michaud explained.

"I'm familiar with the term - I'm just not sure how it applies."

"Logic, I have discovered, is not always as good an indicator as one's gut feeling." Michaud went on. "When we met, I was seriously considering whether my dismal meetings with several agencies might be a sign that now was not the time to enter into the North American market. Then I fell into conversation with you, and you are of course, familiar with the rest."

"But if your intuition said that now was not the time…why am I here?"

"Oh, that wasn't intuition, that was frustration. I think I was simply discouraged at my prospects and perhaps rather put out with the whole thing. A decent glass of wine and a good night's sleep would have returned my perspective to me." Gilles told him. "However, I met you and found myself strangely encouraged despite my set-backs. Then I had occasion to flip through an issue of Vanity Fair on the plane and saw two different ads attributed to Vanguard of Pittsburg. Let's say the apparent coincidence of it piqued my curiosity."

"So you checked out our work."

"I checked out _your _work." Michaud made plain. "You have a good eye and an unorthodox style that I find appealing."

"So you hired us, even though I warned you that my boss was an asshole."

"Ah yes…and did you tell him to "fuck off" upon your return?"

Brian laughed at the man's use of the vulgarity. It seemed out of place when pronounced by so cultured an individual. "I did. But it was hardly the first time, and unfortunately, he wasn't insulted." Brian informed him. "I think he views it as a sort of compliment that he's been able to get to me enough that I'd bother."

"No matter." Michaud shrugged. "I consider our meeting to be serendipitous. I liked you as much as one could in so short a time and then to discover that you were in advertising made me wonder if that was the real sign – for me to keep trying."

"I'm glad that you did." Brian was sincere. "And I hope that we can come up with a campaign you'll be happy with."

Brian found Gilles Michaud eccentric, certainly, but not in an annoying way. As a matter of fact, Brian found it quite charming. Although there was something about the whole experience that gave him a little sense of déjà vu – as if there were something about all this he should recognize.

As he arranged himself more comfortably in the limousine across from his newest client, Brian realized that normally he would feel irritated at having had to meet the man before preparing himself and getting some rest. However, he simply found himself grateful that Michaud had been so thoughtful. Brian didn't feel ambushed at all, but rather… appreciated. It made for a nice change.

"I'm sure we will come up with something spectacular, Brian. I have several ideas, but I bow to your expertise. You must not hesitate to tell me if you think something I suggest will not work." Michaud looked serious. "I value forthrightness very much, and you strike me as an honest man."

"As much as that can be said of someone in advertising, I like to think it's accurate." Brian said. "Although it has been to my disadvantage at times. In my experience, people don't generally like to hear the truth."

"No." Michaud agreed. "But as Benjamin Disraeli once said, _Frank and explicit – that is the right line to take when you wish to conceal your own mind and confuse the minds of others_."

Brian had never heard the quote, but found it apt. He looked at Michaud and once again found himself slightly discomfited by the man's accurate assessment of him. "True, but I seem to recall an old proverb that says: _speak the truth, but leave immediately after_."

"Ah yes." Gilles nodded. "I know this. And did you tell any major truths before, as they say, _skipping the country_?"

"Actually, no." Brian found himself being sincere. "Although I had any number dumped on methe week before I left."

"Really?" Michaud was intrigued at this seemingly personal comment. "Such as…"

"Nothing I need to worry about now. Don't pay attention to me, Gilles." Brian got back on track. "You're talking to a man who isn't even sure he knows what day it is. As you say, I probably need some rest and some food."

"Absolutely." Gilles didn't press him. "It would be my pleasure to treat you to the latter and then leave you to the former." He gestured slightly to the telephone beside Brian. "Do you need to call anyone to let them know you've landed safely?"

"No, it's fine." Brian shook his head, wishing there were a certain blond waiting to hear from him. Normally that thought would depress him, except that now he was on the same side of the ocean with said blond. At least he had that much. He turned his attention back to Michaud. "I'm sure Gardner will expect to hear from me sooner rather than later, but I'll call him after tomorrow's meetings."

"You know, Brian." Michaud leaned back and smiled. "I have wondered if perhaps our first acquaintance wasn't more than scheming on the part of Mr. Vance, and I feel certain that our having met will turn out to be to my great benefit and, I hope, to yours."

However strange it might seem, Brian had a feeling that the man might be right about that.

xxxx

Here he was, outside what he considered to be a true fashion Mecca: Emporio Armani. He was thrilled to be within walking distance and was sure to take advantage of that repeatedly, but for some reason he wasn't in the moodto shop right now. And for Brian Kinney not to be in a shopping frame of mind – was virtually unheard of.

Maybe he was feeling a bit overwhelmed, although not necessarily in a bad way. He still thought the name was a clever little coincidence, but the Hotel Bel-Ami was nothing less than perfect. If he'd set about designing a hotel with his specific personal taste in mind, it was precisely what he would have come up with…and it's proximity to some major fashion houses was just a bonus.

The clean lines and muted tones of the hotel soothed him and made him feel much more centered and at home than he had expected. He'd originally assumed that Michaud would reserve a room at the George V, or perhaps the Ritz Carleton, but his client had told him that he knew one of the designers of the newly renovated Bel-Ami and that the limited amount of rooms meant individual attention was guaranteed. He said his intuition told him that Brian would like it and so he had booked one of their few suites. Intuition. There was that word again. It sounded like a hell of a way to run your business.

Following a relaxed breakfast, during which they discussed everything from wine, to politics, to art, the man left Brian to his own devices, assuring him there would be more than enough business talk the following day, and urging him to relax and enjoy himself. He gave Brian his cell number in the event that he needed anything, but that struck Brian as unlikely indeed, since the hotel had a 24-hour concierge that had already proven useful.

Gilles departed just after ten, following which Brian unpacked and scattered his belongings around the rather sumptuous suite. He found himself a little at loose ends and decided to get a post card to his mother out of the way while he was… well not in the mood exactly, but at least feeling tolerant enough to do so. He'd found some in the desk with photographs of the hotel on them, and had briefly written that he was busy, but having a good time and reiterated that he'd bring her something special. He was sure that the card would be circulated among her cronies and had written it bearing that in mind. It was kind of nice that she wanted to show him off – even over something shallow. He put the card aside to mail later in the week. None of what he wrote on it had occurred as yet, but he was confident that he would indeed have a good time…he'd settle for nothing less.

The drama of the last several months, indeed the last several days, had left him feeling like he deserved a break and he didn't usually give himself any. People thought of him as very self-centered he knew…in fact that was a persona he actively cultivated, and it wasn't entirely false. However, he often felt like he didn't really deserve all this - that he was fooling people into seeing him as this brilliant, accomplished professional. Professional he'd grant as accurate, but he frequently felt far from brilliant. When would the entitled air he projected actually sink in and not feel put on? When would he feel like he _deserved _to have it all? The career, the looks, the money, the travel…he used to have the relationship too, but he'd fucked that up impressively, and feeling he didn't deserve it was a big part of the reason he'd done so.

He wrote a few more cards, assuming he'd have neither the time nor the inclination later in the week, and knowing that Michael and Lindsay in particular, were certain to appreciate them. He felt no more amenable to rest after completing them though - he was still too wired. So he decided to explore the surrounding area on foot, starting with the fashion district.

Two hours later and he already adored the Left Bank, particularly its abundant bookstores and cafes. The Latin Quarter had certain bohemian aspects that appealed to him and it appeared this might be a decent party locale as well. It really seemed to have everything, including proximity to the Seine, which he now found himself walking along. He'd been thinking about Justin and for once didn't immediately try to banish the thoughts.

What _exactly _had happened with them? Brian thought he knew at one time, but maybe he wasn't as perceptive as he liked to think. Maybe not when it came to his own life or his own mistakes. For a moment, at least, he'd allow himself to really think about this without concentrating on how he _wanted _to feel, but how he truly had.

In the beginning he'd viewed the kid as sort of a puppy-like playmate. Available whenever Brian had wanted to have a romp and after, sent safely home. But then he'd met the father. Or rather, the business end of the father's fist and foot. This was the jerk Justin lived with? Previously, Brian had not made much comment on the kid's life beyond teasing him about homework, but after that he had given serious thought to Justin's family situation. He'd considered what it must be like for him at his age, especially given the complicated existence he'd recently thrown himself into.

When Brian had originally taken Justin in, it hadn't entirely been about responsibility, and the fact that dependability was not really a foreign concept to him. In part, it had been that he wanted to continue playing with Justin - enough that he was ready to expend some effort to make sure that happened. He'd been willing to do a lot more than he would have thought, as it turned out.

He started to realize this around the time of the New York move fiasco. That had largely been a reaction to seeing Justin top someone else recently, and becoming aware of the kid's growing power as a man. It had made Brian extremely nervous, both as potential competition and the thought that Justin might soon learn he could do better than Brian. After the job fell through, he'd been almost ready then to negotiate some kind of relationship between them, although he hadn't yet been willing to call it that. Going to the prom had been a non-verbal way to sort of declare his intentions to Justin and test the waters.

They swiftly found themselves out far too deep, of course, and Brian had blamed himself, having known that any attempt at love and romance on the part of a Kinney man was bound to end in tragedy for everyone. And so it had. Brian spiraled out of control that time, drowning himself in a sea of dulling drugs and desensitizing sex. The only thing snapping him out of it had been Justin's need for him. That became Brian's new addiction, his habit. There was no high, like the high of being necessary to someone.

It became his new reason to get up in the morning and seeing Justin's face every time he did, enabled Brian to push the events of that night farther to the back of his mind. He'd become so habituated to the kid's presence that he'd actually worked out terms of a relationship, and more…called it one. Well…didn't snark too much when other people called it that, anyway. He'd been happy for awhile – he thought they both had; Brian even surviving Justin's return to strength and his attempts at freeing himself of Brian's benevolence.

However, the more Justin had become independent, and the more his need for Brian dwindled, the more …yes he could admit it…frightened Brian became. It had culminated in his humiliating behaviour over the comic book. He had completely and utterly lost control of his ability to remain impassive. He'd just thrown out a big clue as to his insecurity and now he was sure to be hurt. He'd worked fast though – recovering quickly by burying his feelings again, not being quite so obvious in his affection anymore, and taking an emotional step back. As long as Justin didn't know how much he cared, Brian might yet be safe.

It hadn't worked though and, now that he thought about it, had really expedited the end. He'd been so afraid that Justin would leave, that he had made it happen…a last attempt at controlling something about this mess. If it were to occur regardless, he should at least have a say in the timing. Even so, he had dared to hope a little. Hope that somehow Justin would see though his façade of indifference and take pity on him. Spare him the declarations and the explanations and just accept that Brian wanted to be with him.

He could hardly blame the kid, naturally. He was young and beautiful, and he was entitled to have everything that was available to him; including love and romantic demonstrations thereof. Brian had simply known that he couldn't do that – it would cost him too much. So he made that plain, and Justin had left him.

He knew everyone had expected an encore of his post-bashing performance, and while drugs and sex certainly held their usual appeal, he didn't have the time. Work, at least, didn't leave him hung over and sore, so it seemed an agreeable alternative of what to drown in this time. It succeeded quite well for the most part. Except, of course, when it didn't. He'd missed Justin terribly, often waking and expecting to still find him there. But he generally comforted himself with the knowledge that he had done the right thing; that Justin was better off with a chance to explore life on his own.

Despite the fact that he was probably getting more sleep than he had in awhile, Brian found himself feeling tired much of the time. He hoped the change of scene might soon alter that fact, but he knew it wasn't simply exhaustion as it pertained to sleep; he was tired in another way. Tired of confrontations, tired of worrying about people noticing if he accidentally cared too much and tired of pretending that he didn't. He'd set himself up for it - he knew that, and he still believed in the wisdom of his plan. In theory it should work. It should. If no one thought he cared, then they wouldn't try to hurt him, ergo he would not end up hurt.

Except that he had, hadn't he? He couldn't deny that. God knows he'd been trying to for the last couple of months, but it seemed as though lately, that one fucking thing after another just beat away at his defenses and left him exhausted, and without the strength to rearm. So here he was in Paris, in retreat… temporarily, at least.

Brian stopped and looked around him. Awhile back he had crossed to the other side of the river and begun walking back towards the direction he'd started in. He found himself now at the Pont Neuf bridge, feeling a little hungry again. He continued a moment more, then paused in the middle of the structure to collect his thoughts. He needed to eat…maybe he'd try Les Deux Magots. He'd heard good things about it and it would be cool to be in the old, albeit restored, haunts of, among others, Jean-Paul Sartre and Ernest Hemingway - a closet case if Brian had ever read one.

As he looked down the river at the sparkling water, he thought about how much Justin must have loved it here. It positively radiated romance and even Brian felt as though a walk along the Seine was incomplete without a hand to hold. He sighed. Well, he'd just mentally charted the course of their disastrous affiliation to this point, and come up with zip as to how to proceed now. He'd simply sit here in the midst of all this romance and wallow in the fact that he was alone, he supposed.

Wait a minute... that was it. All this romance at Brian's disposal and no meddling friends or people he knew to keep up an uncaring act for. That might well be a winning combination in getting Justin back where he belonged. It dawned on Brian that he was free to act as he chose here. He had no history, no reminders of any other failings; just a city full of romance and some significant personal charm. The problem was going to be getting those together in combination with Justin. The kid could be anywhere. This wasn't looking for a needle in a haystack - this was looking for a needle in Europe. He had no clue where to start, and he understood the kid was being rather evasive with everyone about his itinerary.

Brian took a deep breath and felt defeated for a moment, and then it came to him…he'd simply email Justin a little sooner than he had intended to, that's all. The kid would surely reply out of sheer good manners if nothing else – he'd always been kind of obsessive about them. Brian would figure out a way to get Justin to Paris. In the unlikely event he couldn't, he'd call Melanie and get her to lie about further signatures being required regarding the suit, and an office in Paris where Justin needed to do so. He was sure she would agree, given her stated concern for the kid and recent peculiar, but conciliatory, gestures toward Brian.

That was all he'd have to do. Wherever Justin was, it couldn't be that hard to get here. The whole continent took no more than a few hours to get across. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it wasn't difficult to get around and he was sure the kid could manage to get there with no trouble.

Once Brian had him there, he'd arrange to spend some quality time just hanging out with the boy in every artistic, romantic spot he could find in this city, and before he knew it - they'd be back in bed and back together. He might even go so far as to make a declaration or two, although it probably wouldn't be required. Brian would totally wine him, dine him, compliment him – the kid would be his again in no time, he just knew it. Justin would understand what he was trying to say, just like always. He'd simply needed some time, that's all; they both had.

Justin's apparent irresponsibility was not just an excuse to see him, though. Brian did want to talk to the kid if he was truly thinking about quitting school. Now that he thought about it, Justin's disappearing act made sense. Obviously he'd explored a relationship with someone else but had found it lacking, if Ethan were to be believed – and Brian could not fathom why the musician would lie. So Justin was probably feeling foolish about walking out and probably dying to come back. It was as simple as that. He'd gone to Europe to clear his head.

Brian continued walking towards the cafe with new purpose. He had a plan now... he always felt better when there was a plan. He'd been careless before; he knew that now. He'd underestimated how much those things mattered to Justin and he'd overestimated how much it would cost him to do them. He didn't have to explain now, though – it would be all right. He'd use every romantic gesture he knew and convince the boy to come back with him, and return to the loft and to school.

Shit. He suddenly remembered a possible flaw in the plan. Jennifer had explained that Justin must respond to PIFA by the 10th of August with an answer about next year. Brian decided he'd have Cynthia get in touch with the school and commit to next year on Justin's behalf with a deposit. That way, if he wasn't able to discuss that by the required date, the kid would still have the option of returning.

His step was lighter as he approached the café. Justin loved him…Brian was sure of it, now. He'd always known it really, even when he hadn't wanted to. It had just taken recent events to remind him of it, and make him realize how much it meant to him. And if that love had wavered a little, well Brian knew he could get it back. As Mikey was wont to remind him - he was Brian Kinney for fuck sake.

xxxx

"There you are, J. Bog in." Andrew dropped today's breakfast special in front of his friend.

"Are you sure these are eggs, Andy?" Justin inquired. "They look a little…crunchy."

"You don't recognize brekkie when you see it anymore is your problem." Andrew told him. "You're like Fee – she doesn't generally roll in until near noon." He lowered his voice. "I love her, but you don't want to know her before eleven, mate. She's not likely to be so cluckers then. Cross as a frog in a sock if she's not had enough sleep."

"I'll take your word for it."

"I don't think you've ever been in this early either. It's usually just me and Josette 'til Marc comes in at 11:00."

"I miss Marc." Justin lamented as he surveyed his plate and picked up a fork.

"Too slow in the mornings to waste him on this shift." Andrew shrugged. "Try the omelet though. It's not bad - it's just Japanese."

"What have you got against the Japanese?"

"Nothing! Not so keen on most of their cars, but the food is good. I'm a big sushi fan – brilliant stuff."

"Ugh – I can't stand sushi. It's disgusting." Justin made a sour face.

Andrew laughed at him. "You'll stick your tongue in a guys ass, but you won't eat sushi?"

"Bastardizing 'the Breakfast Club' to make rimming references, Andrew?" Justin made fun back. "We'll have you playing for our team yet."

"You should be so lucky." Andrew chuckled again, as he made his way towards the kitchen.

"Not me." Justin called out. "I don't go for that long haired, girly look."

Andrew replied with his finger.

Justin dug into the surprisingly decent egg dish and thought about his morning. Andy was right – he was hardly a regular for the breakfast special. His internal clock was still entirely out of whack. He really ought to do something about that.

Except…why? Why should he? It's not like he had to conform to anyone else's schedule. To anyone else's expectations. It was incredibly liberating. Except for when ….no. It was liberating – end of sentence. He was who he was _supposed _to be here. Except when he wasn't.

When he wasn't seemed to occur mostly at night. That's why, more often than not, unless he was completely out of his head on something, he woke at 3 am and couldn't go back to sleep. Unless he exhausted himself into oblivion first, of course. At least he didn't dream much anymore. Not that he could remember anyway. He wasn't sure why and he wasn't prepared to care. He just welcomed the mental quiet that now accompanied sleep. Although, he suspected that wasn't normal, he also suspected there wasn't much to be done about it.

Justin put aside those concerns and attempted more of Josette's Japanese omelet. Aside from the radish aspect, it wasn't too bad. He had decided to get up and eat early today, in order to arrive at the Embassy before it got busy. He'd heard that first thing in the morning was when it was when it was best to go.

He had resolved that the time had come to take some definitive steps in his life. He was going to look into a couple of courses, but first he was going to get information about a long term Visa. He could stay in France for up to ninety days without one and he hadn't even been in the country for a month yet, so he still had time to sort some things out. He just thought it would be a good idea to get information on student Visas now.

Maybe if he made a commitment to move on in a different direction, he could stop thinking about Brian. Comparing every fuck he had to his love making with Brian. Because that's what it used to be – no matter what they called it. Brian liked it slow and tender a lot more of the time than people would suppose. Justin found that wasn't something you were likely to get from a trick – no matter how talented. Besides, that kind of sex didn't mesh with the reputation he was building. But that didn't keep Justin from missing it. Missing Brian.

He shook his head. He didn't need to worry about this anymore. All he had to do was focus on something else and he'd be fine. It was actually getting easier and easier to banish Brian from his conscious thoughts. He just had to concentrate on other things.

Usually for him it was art. That wasn't hard here, considering that it had been all around him from the day he set foot on the European continent. He'd never been somewhere that had such history. The feeling he'd had in Rome while visiting the Sistine Chapel had been incredible. Afterwards, he'd stood in the courtyard at the Vatican and realized that he was being warmed by the same sun as the man who'd painted that stunning piece of work, that he was breathing the same air. It was thoroughly awe inspiring.

So – that's what he'd focus on: Not running away from his problems, but running to his passion…well one of them. The one that it was safe to love. Art had always been that and would never hurt him. He'd found that out after the bashing. It was his one solace no matter what was going on in the rest of his life. It gave him respite and comfort, and he knew it always would. So that was as good a reason as any to stay. He felt inspired here and un-threatened.

He was getting better on some fronts, he thought. It really was getting less difficult to banish thoughts of Pittsburgh, school and everyone in his life there. He could think about them in the abstract but he did not allow specific thoughts, in particular, memories, to invade his consciousness with any regularity. He had things pretty decently under control from his perspective.

He loved that he had complete autonomy here. It seemed at home that he was constantly following someone else's plan, but here – it was all about him and he was discovering there were aspects to that he relished. He'd never had the experience before. Certainly not at his parents and, in most of areas of their life together, not with Brian.

The thing is…he hadn't entirely hated it with Brian. Most of the time, he had attributed Brian's attempts at organizing their life, to a desire to make it run smoother. For a long time he had assumed that Brian's motivation was love for him and a wish to make Justin's life easier. After the comic vandalism, however, he'd wondered about Brian's true feelings for him - even though he'd forgiven the man. He had spent all that time previous to it assuming that things had changed, that Brian had changed. He was wrong. Brian was too smart to believe in romantic love. It had taken awhile, but Justin had gotten wise too.

At the time, he had tried to dismiss the thoughts that said a man who loved him would understand his love for his art… and would never have defaced it in such a fashion. After they'd made up, Justin had tried to act as though nothing was amiss and when he couldn't anymore, he tried to fix things with some time alone together. Nothing worked. Brian had not responded well to any of it and didn't seem to spot the trouble they were in. Justin had turned to Ethan out of desperation and a need to be appreciated. It had worked for a little while, hours at a time even, but it wasn't good enough. It wasn't Brian.

He remembered talking to Ethan the night he'd walked out on Brian. At first he'd said very little and Ethan hadn't pried, but then he'd finally asked… "why now?"

And Justin had replied, " I just thought suddenly, you know, I have a choice. I can spend my time waiting for Brian to fuck every other guy in the world until he finally loves me. Or I can just get on with my life."

"Good for you." Ethan had been impressed.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I've chosen yet."

That had been the problem with staying in Pittsburgh, of course. It made the choice so much harder. Here it was another story. He was not surrounded by anyone from that life and he was free to start a new one if he chose. All he had to do was let go of those desires for once and all, and just…move on to the kind of person he wanted to be now. The kind that didn't end up hurt.

Brian had been like that before Justin invaded his life. The young man had hoped that his dream of the prom had been just that…a dream. But deep down he'd known it wasn't. Knew that Brian had tried to show him love and Justin had not remembered it. Wasn't that proof that no good could come of that emotion. For some people, anyway. People like him and, of course, Brian.

"Hey - you had enough?" Andrew's inquiry had startled Justin out of his musing and caused him to look down at his plate. He'd eaten half the omelet and put down his fork. Fiona would never let him get away with that, but she wasn't here right now.

"Yeah." Justin said seriously. "I've had enough."

Andrew wasn't the most observant fellow in the world, but even he got the impression his friend was talking about more than just breakfast. "You're lucky Fee's not in or you'd get a right ear-bashing over cleaning your plate."

Justin put some money down on the table, being sure to tip well. Andy was a decent guy and he liked hanging out with him and his room-mate Cal, with some frequency. They didn't tend to ask a lot of questions, but were fun to be around. "Fee worries too much."

Andrew picked up the plate and added it to the bin under his arm. "You off to the Embassy, then?"

Justin nodded. "I hope it isn't a serious hassle."

"Can't be worse than trying to get a work permit and I managed it right enough."

"Well I'm only getting the information today, but I'll figure out some way to stay – even if it is a hassle." The set of Justin's jaw reflected his determination.

Andrew wasn't sure that Fee's frequent worry over Justin was unfounded. The guy always seemed just a little bit like he wasn't all there. Not that he had kangaroos loose in the top paddock or anything, just that he seemed like part of him was…missing. "Well how about meeting up tonight for a bit of the amber fluid and you can tell me how it went. We'll go torture Cal at work – make him spot us a round."

"Sounds good." Justin agreed, getting up and heading for the door.

"Right then – later, mate."

Andrew had turned to continue going about his duties and so he missed the way Justin paused at the comment, and the way his shoulders sagged a little, as though there were a great weight on them all of a sudden. Unnoticed too was the sotto voce reply. "Later."

**VII - The Chariot**: It exemplifies the hero's journey and represents ambition, determination, energy and freedom. Its charioteer harnesses his power and talents and forges ahead, driven by a burning desire to succeed. The charioteer proceeds through a combination of self-discipline, bravado and sheer willpower. Having a sense of direction, a plan. Setting forth on a journey, especially one of personal development. Unresolved contradictions and tensions that are brought under control. Imagining yourself to be beyond human limitations. Pride. Hubris. Ego inflation coming from success and popularity

**In a reading**: A journey. It can be a spiritual journey of self-discovery or an actual trip. Either way you are in the driver's seat and you create your own destiny through your actions. Huge wheels and frisky steeds speed the rate at which the driver's will power can be realized. This kind of charge makes more of the world accessible to one ambitious enough to seize the Chariot's reins. But there is danger in this feeling of freedom, because of the increased rate of change and its power to magnify mistakes in judgment. As a seasoned warrior, the Charioteer is called upon to be extra attentive to the way ahead.


	10. Strength

A/N: My gratitude to the reviewer who let me know that the little squiggles I had been using to separate portions of the chapters were not showing up and everything ran together – Yikes! Problem solved, I trust. Thanks for that! I hope you will enjoy and review – I do so love to hear from you.

_xxxx_

Bon soir, Monsieur Kinney." The night concierge greeted him. "May I make any reservations for you?"

"No thank you, Paul." Brian acknowledged. "I'll probably just order some room service."

The man nodded. "Have a pleasant evening, sir."

As he got into the elevator to make his way to the suite, Brian reflected on his time here thus far. To say that it had passed speedily was an understatement. Brian could not believe it was Thursday again. He'd been here for twelve days and he still hadn't seen much of Paris. It was his own fault of course; Gilles had urged him to and had offered suggestions as to what to see and do.

The previous weekend he had even taken Brian to Versailles and had been terribly amused that although Brian thought it impressive, he'd declared Louis XIV's taste to be incredible garish. Brian also thought that the monarch had been more Queen than King, but had refrained from saying so. It was fascinating to see places he'd only read about, however - especially ones with such rich history.

This weekend Gilles planned to take Brian to his house in Montpellier. Apparently, it was there that Gilles kept what he considered to be his full time home, although in reality he spent much of his time in Paris. Their main manufacturing plant in the country was located a little to the South of Montpellier, but the corporate offices were naturally in Paris. The two cities were only three hours apart by TGV train, so it wasn't as big a hassle as it sounded apparently. Brian was amazed at the way Europeans seemed to prefer public transportation. No wonder, given how efficient their system was compared to North America.

As he opened the door to his suite and tossed his briefcase on a chair, Brian realized he was looking forward to the weekend. They had gotten quite a lot of work done since he'd been in Paris and things had been progressing nicely …up until now.

Michaud Industries was a European leader in a specific area of the food industry. They were currently number one in supplying fresh dairy products and packaged water throughout Europe and Scandinavia, and number two in the area of cereal, biscuits and snacks.

Brian felt that the best thing to do was focus on one of their products for the initial introduction across the pond, try to build some brand loyalty, and then gradually introduce their other products over time. He felt that their bottled water was the best thing to focus on for the present, because it appealed to such a wide market.

Some of the senior executives were keen on the new flavored craze in the industry. Many sports companies were developing their own bottled water with that feature and those in existence were adding fruit flavors to theirs. Brian felt that this was a fad and not a bandwagon that Michaud should be jumping on. Gilles agreed with him and they had decided that although new flavors were out, new packaging was in.

Brian's idea was a "back to basics" type plan. Water was water, it was that simple and he felt that the North American public would quickly tire of gimmicks and seek the original thing again. When they did so, he wanted them to choose Michaud. Europeans already chose the company's _Cristal _brand as the number one bottled water on the continent and Brian was determined to do as well across the Atlantic. He'd been working on the idea of a new brand, specific to the market.

The current problem was coming up with a concept and name that would make North Americans want to buy, since he'd basically gone as far as he could until doing so. Gilles seemed undaunted, however, and Brian found the lack of concern a little mystifying. As he undressed and turned on the shower, he thought back to how he had told the man as much today.

"Are you sure we should be heading out of the city tomorrow, Gilles?" He had asked, feeling they should be focusing on work. "We really need to have something together in less than a month and if we don't, the spots we've reserved for winter will look pretty stupid with no product to pitch."

"You worry too much, Brian." Gilles had told him. "Sometimes the best thing to do is get away from the office and see what presents itself. I have no doubt you can worry just as well sight seeing as you can at your desk."

"I'm not worried." Brian disagreed. "I'm just a little… concerned."

"Tomato..tomahto." Gilles had laughed at him.

And Brian had allowed himself to laugh as well. He knew he should be utterly mortified at allowing a client to know he wasn't completely on top of something, but he and Gilles had become quite friendly, frequently sharing lunch together, but keeping discussion of personal lives to a minimum. That is to say, Gilles shared some of his but didn't pry into Brian's...for which Brian was grateful.

"I, on the other hand, am _not_ concerned." Gilles had told him. "I have faith in you, Brian…you'll come up with something brilliant. I think you just need to take a break and let it come to you."

So he had acquiesced and agreed to leave tomorrow for the Languedoc region. He would try to relax and make sure that Gilles' confidence in him was well placed. He must admit though…the older man's belief in his abilities did make him feel good. Honest praise with an apparent lack of agenda was a new phenomenon for Brian - particularly in the business world.

He stepped under the water and tried to wash off the day. It was still early, only six o'clock, but Brian didn't feel like going out. He'd already explored several of the gay watering holes and found them adequate for his purposes. The imperturbable Paul had discharged his duties as concierge admirably on more than one occasion in that regard, and had even arranged to gain Brian entrée into the very exclusive _Les Bains,_ last weekend. Some bars had gay only nights and theirs were Sundays and Mondays. He had found it on the pretentious side, certainly, but that suited him well enough. He'd still had his pick of the place and decided that perhaps they should start selecting people for entry based on their level of skill. There were many pretty faces to choose from, but he had been disappointed to discover that most of them tended to trade on their looks. Maybe it had just been because he'd lost a little of his taste for it, since his recent preoccupation with luring Justin to Paris.

Brian had managed to restrain himself from checking his email immediately, upon arrival at his room. It was doubtful there would be one from Justin in the two hours since he had last checked - since there had not been one for the past week.

He had written last Wednesday, having not been able to wait longer and had been somewhat surprised that the response wasn't immediate. For the first couple of days he had told himself that the kid could hardly be expected to check his email daily – he probably went to some Internet café to do it. But Brian found it increasingly difficult to be patient.

As he dried himself off, he thought about what to do for the rest of the night. He fastened the towel around his waist and walked to the phone. He ordered up s_teak et frites_, having become alarmingly fond of the dish. It would be about half an hour before the food arrived and he felt disinclined to turn on his default station of CNN, so instead, he found himself glancing around the room in search of amusement.

He spied his carryon luggage stashed in a half open closet and walked over to get it. He bent down and reached into the side pocket for a book he remembered putting there and as he pulled it out, a piece of paper came fluttering to the floor. He picked it up and walked over to the bed, then leaned against the headboard and opened the paper to discover it was a short, handwritten note – it's salutation leading him to believe it was indeed intended for him.

_Asshole,_

I liberated Lindsay's address book from the fortress that is her purse at great personal risk - for which, I doubt you are suitably grateful. Your favorite Frenchman and mine (may he rot in hell) can be reached at 01 47 07 24 24, and I think he TA's a History of Art course at the Sorbonne. I am certain he saw Justin and who knows - maybe he can finally make himself useful. If you intend to beat the information out of him, you can repay me with a few "after" pictures.

Mel

Fuck. Leave it to Melanie to figure out a way to _one up_ him from thousands of miles away. Why hadn't he thought of that? It might be at least a clue, better than nothing … and the fact was that he was so desperate for any news at this point that he was willing to put up with the odious Guilliame to get it.

Brian immediately dialed the number on Mel's note and was relieved when someone answered right away.

"Oui, allo?"

Brian didn't know why, but he hadn't expected the telephone to be answered in French and it took him a moment to compensate. "Uhh, bon soir… puis je parler avec Guilliame?" He had a feeling his grammar was off, but he knew he'd managed the gist of it.

"Guilliame n'est pas ici."

"Oh…uh a quelle heure est-ce….."

"Is it one of the American friends?" The voice interrupted.

"Uh …yes." Brian said gratefully. "I was really hoping to talk to him."

"Oh, I am sorry, but he is the whole night gone." The man, presumably a room-mate, told him. "He is have dinner and then they go to drink."

Brian smiled at the awkward phrasing and tried again, a little more prepared now. "I understand. I am in Paris for tonight only and I thought I would meet him. Do you know where he will be?"

And as simple as that, Brian had his evening plans. He went to the closet to pick an outfit and hoped that Guilliame could tell him at least _something _about Justin – any news would make him feel better. He didn't know it yet, but before the night was over… he'd change his mind.

xxxx

"Christ, mate – you look like an ad for death."

"Shut up and pour me some breakfast, would you?" Justin grouched, as he took a seat at the bar in front of Andy and rubbed his pounding head.

"You'd be better off with something to eat." Fiona's voice advised from behind him.

Justin felt too crappy to be cowed, however. "I wouldn't mind eating if it's possible to make a vodka sandwich."

Andy wisely slunk away to let them deal with each other minus witnesses, as Fiona hefted herself onto the stool next to Justin and stared pointedly into the red riddled, blue eyes. "Right … got bolloxed again, did ya?"

Justin nodded. "And laid."

"Like there was any doubt o' that." Fiona rolled her eyes. "He can't be the reason you're late whoever he was, you never let them stay that long."

"I slept in." Was all Justin offered with a yawn.

Fiona wasn't willing to say criticize that, since she supported anything that would make him look better rested. "Well… it doesn't do much for my morale to wonder if I've been stood up, is all."

Justin sighed and looked even more deflated. "Sorry about that."

"Here now, never mind." Fiona said hastily. "I waited… and if you'll have a bit of breakfast with me, I'll put a little hair of the dog in some tomato juice for you. Just a smidge, though."

Justin smiled gratefully. "You're the best, Fee."

"That's true." She nodded and went around to the other side of the bar to give Marc their order and make Justin's drink. After doing so, she turned back to him and said, "All right… out with it already."

"With what?"

"With what." She mocked. "With the reason you've not half become alcoholic in the last week." She set down his vodka laced cure in front of him and leaned forward. "And I hear you you've been after breaking your own records for shagging and the like."

"Who's been keeping score for you… Maddy or Cal?"

When she just continued to stare at him, he answered more seriously. "Look, I've just felt like partying a bit this week, that's all. I was happy about all the work I've sold."

"That's absolute shite, and I'm insulted you think I'd go for it." Fiona sniffed. "You were your increasingly less maudlin self on Friday when you used the computer, and by Sunday afternoon you looked like the dog's breakfast - for the first day of many. Now, what the feckin' hell is… " Fiona stopped mid rant. She could not believe she hadn't figured it out sooner. She was getting old, that must be it - damn it. "Oh… so that's what. I'm right daft, I am."

Justin simply tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. He didn't realize that he did it, and no one here would recognize the impatient gesture as not really belonging to him.

"You should've talked it over with me when you read it, and maybe saved your liver some damaged this week." Fiona shook her head and scolded. "Who was it, and what did they say?"

Damn. The woman was fucking clairvoyant and it drove Justin crazy. Well, there was no point in lying to her about it, and frankly he needed the advice – he knew that. "It was from Brian."

Fiona checked her surprised reaction and tried to think quickly. This was not what she had expected to hear. A guilt inducing note from his mother perhaps; a letter from someone _mentioning _this Brian and whatever he was doing now, but nothing Justin had told her about their situation, had encouraged her to think it could be from the mysterious man himself. "I see." She finally managed. "Well… what did he say?"

Justin reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper which, when he unfolded it, she recognized as one of those he'd printed out last weekend. She chose to act mercifully however, and say nothing about the fact that he'd obviously been carrying it around. She simply took it from him carefully and began to read.

_xx_  
From: "Brian Kinney" kinneyb  
To: "Justin Taylor" j_taylor  
Subject: Tuition  
Date: Wed, Jul 31 2002 14:38:51 -0400

Justin,

As you may know, I have been traveling a lot for work lately. It occurred to me that I didn't know when your tuition will be due, and I am likely to be away when you need it. I don't expect anything about our agreement to change simply because your living arrangements are different. Please let me know the amount for next year and I will get the funds to you.

Brian  
_xx_

Fiona looked back up and cleared her throat. "Well… and what about this inspired you to drink half your weight in Vodka?"

Justin sighed. "I don't know."

"Sure ya do, darlin'... and I don't blame you a mite." Fiona smiled indulgently. "It is a little on the impersonal side."

"Yeah, well… _Brian's _a little on the impersonal side." Justin told her. "I don't know what I expected… not to hear from him at all, honestly. So why should I care that he refers our break up as a 'change in living arrangements'?"

"Because you love him and you wanted it to mean something more to him than that."

"I don't know, Fee." Justin said calmly, as though he truly meant it. "I think… I think that Brian was right about us."

As Fiona began to interrupt, he stopped her. "Don't get me wrong, I do think love is real… for some people. Not even just straight people or anything, but it's definitely not for everyone. I'm just not one of those that can do it, that's all. I thought I could, but I was wrong."

"Justin, I don't want to sound like the old fogey I surely am, but you have to trust me – you're very young to say for certain what's for you and what isn't, in this life."

"The last two years ought to count as twenty, Fee – I feel tired enough to support that theory."

"I know you do, luv. I know." She sympathized. "But you won't always feel that way."

Justin glared at her suspiciously. "I'm not changing my mind."

"All right." She spread her hands in a 'did I say anything?' denial.

"I mean it… I'd rather shave my head; I'd rather jump out of a plane; I'd rather eat pussy; I'd… do you see where I'm going with this?

"Not to Pittsburgh."

"Right."

"Fine then, what is yer grand plan?"

He took a deep breath and tried to remember that Fee was only being a good friend. "I'm going to be a wealthy, artistic ex-pat… famous Europe wide for converting straight men." He smiled a little at the fantasy.

"Speaking as a straight _woman… _could you leave a few for me... if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"Anything for you, Fee."

"Good, then eat this." She demanded as Andrew brought out their breakfast and set it on the bar in front of them.

Fiona came around the counter again and resumed her seat next to Justin. "So…" She began. "what did you reply?"

"I didn't." He said. "What the fuck would I say?"

"Well, I should think you've all sorts of things to say to the man, not the least of which might be…thanks for being decent about it." Fiona's expression made plain that she thought that was obvious. "From what you told me about your behaviour, he had every right to tell you to piss off altogether, never mind pay for your school."

"I didn't want him to pay for it." Justin told her. "And it's a moot point because I'm not going back."

"So you plan to ignore the man's polite question on top of walking out on him in front of everyone he knows."

Justin shook his head in frustration and trained his eyes on his breakfast. "I knew I shouldn't have told you everything."

"Everything indeed…." Fiona scoffed. "I know there are crucial pieces of this that you aren't telling me. Things which might change my advice to you."

"Which, as is stands, is what?"

"To write him back, of course." Fiona waved imperially, as though declaring it so by her gesture.

"Look… I know it's the right thing to do, okay. I just don't think I can."

"Justin." Fiona said solemnly, putting down her fork. "Are you serious about staying here?"

"Did I not make that plain with the pussy eating?"

"Well, as long as you don't deal with him, you've left that door open." She pointed out. "If you're serious, then you need to close it and not look back. Close the door on Brian taking care of things and, quote, '_running your life_'. You needn't get upset… you don't have to torture yourself over it…all you have to do is say '_no thank you_'. If that's what you want."

What did he want? Well he definitely knew what he didn't want. Analyzing every word out of his lover's mouth trying to figure out what he really meant, for a start. Guessing, wrong about how much it was safe to express his feelings for the man. He definitely did not want that anymore – that's what contributed to his overall weariness to begin with. Feeling so out of control – that's what it really came down to. He'd had a lifetime of that it seemed, although he knew that wasn't so – it just felt like it.

Justin remained quiet for a moment more and Fiona didn't prod. "Do you know what I really want?" He asked finally.

"Tell me."

"I want to feel rested." He said after another pause. "I want to have something to hang onto that makes me feel strong again and able to handle anything. I want to hang out with people I like, draw my pictures and just be… content. I don't think that's too much to ask, really. I just … I just …"

"What?" She asked gently.

"I just don't want to feel as though I'm struggling against the current anymore."

Fiona knew what the solution to that was, but she also knew he wasn't ready to believe it. She'd learned years ago, of course: The trick was not to struggle at all; to swim along with the current. But Justin hadn't figured that out yet.

"And Montpellier feels like a bit of solid ground, does it?" Fiona guessed. "Some place to put your feet down and rest a bit."

"Exactly." Justin gave her a grateful smile. _"You _are my sand bar, Fee."

She laughed obligingly at his attempt to lighten up. "What a terrible pun!" She exclaimed. "And it's a café, not a bar – an entirely different sort of atmosphere, I'll have you know."

"Picky picky." He teased, then turned serious. "You're right. I need to reply and I'll do it after brunch – no sense putting it off longer." He took another drink and looked down at his plate. "I'm getting closer to figuring out the kind of life I want, Fee and it doesn't revolve around Brian Kinney anymore."

Fiona was fairly certain it wasn't her that his statement was meant to convince.

xxxx

Brian had no idea how he managed to get through the trip today. Gilles had been full of apologies about having to go over a little work on the train – thank god. Brian chose to plead a little flu and was thus able to sleep most of the way, without arousing much in the way of suspicion. Not that Gilles was likely to look askance at a night of indulgence. He'd been urging Brian to have fun since he got here.

He wouldn't exactly call the previous evening fun, however he had given in and imbibed more than his share. It had not been one of his finer moments and he had a vague recollection of Paul helping him up to his room through the hotel's service entrance. That man was swiftly working his way towards a big fat tip, although Brian suspected Paul was just a decent, albeit reserved, guy. Wasn't even gay, as far as he could tell, despite the impressive knowledge of the city's homo hot spots.

And as usual – Paul had been right. Thursday was definitely club night as far as Paris was concerned. Brian had been annoyed at how packed the place was, but he knew eventually he'd draw his usual crowd; then Guillaume would see him and curiosity would undoubtedly get the better of the man.

Sure enough, he was half an hour into auditioning the evening's entertainment, when an annoyingly familiar voice addressed him.

"I knew you would branch out eventually." It told him. "You finally fucked everyone in America, so now you start on my country."

"I gave you plenty of time to get around to them, Guilliame." Brian turned to face him. "It's hardly my fault if you can't get laid."

"Oh, I've had my share, mon ami, I assure you." Guy was slightly confused, since the attractive American was clearly not surprised to see him. "So - how are Lindsay and Melanie and _their _son?"

Brian had to respect the man's ability to go right for the jugular, if not his fashion sense. "My son and his mothers are just fine." He said neutrally. "Actually, they suggested I look you up." Well one of them did, anyway – so it was partly true.

"Is that so?" Guilliame nodded. "Clearly, I have saved you the phone call. Please… you must have a drink with me … and tell me what you are doing in Paris. I assume it isn't really because you've gone through every gay ass in America."

So Brian had played along and made nice very briefly, well his version of it, which is to say, barely civil. After some meaningless small talk, Guilliame enabled him to get to the point.

"So Lindsay suggested you look me up?"

Brian casually avoided the question. "And I understand you had another visitor from the Pitts this summer."

Guilliame began to see what this was really about. Americans – they think everybody else is so stupid. Well, it didn't take a genius to see where this was going. "You mean the little blond artist."

Brian gave a look that indicated the affirmative.

"The one with the beautiful ass – _magnifique._" Guilliame tested his theory.

"Yes." Brian agreed tersely.

"Ah oui, I showed him around…" Guilliame's tone implying just what he intended.

Brian found the inference difficult to believe. "Really…"

"We had a very _…very _good time."

Brian found that strangely he had no stomach for this battle of insinuations. Normally he excelled at just this sort of repartee and he still could – he just didn't feel like it. And remembering the decision he'd made to do what he wanted over here – not what he felt was expected, he cut to the chase and laughed. "Sorry - I don't believe for a minute that Justin would agree to fuck you."

"Ah mon ami, his lips may have said "no," but his eyes… "

"If I know Justin…" And I do, Brian assured himself. "His eyes were saying '_read my lips_'." He turned to the man and put his drink down. "Now – Lindsay and Melanie are actually kind of worried about the kid –so do you have anything remotely useful to tell me about him?"

Guilliame was taken aback at the straightforward question. "What might be considered useful?"

"Look, did you see him, or not?" Brian's patience was wearing thin.

"I did."

"And?"

"And …I told him some places to go, took him to lunch to discuss art, which we did and then I brought him out to the clubs. He didn't really need to be shown what to do after that."

"I see." Brian was relieved. "So he was fine."

"Well, if by fine you mean - did he drink like a fish and fuck everything that moved? Oui, he was fine."

"And still he didn't get around to you?" Brian taunted, surprised at the description and assuming that Guilliame was exaggerating.

"Ha ha." Guilliame made a face. "I think it was because he liked me too well."

"Yeah…" Brian scoffed. "That must be it."

Suddenly Guilliame stepped away from the bar and gestured to a young man with wavy brown hair, who stopped dancing and walked over to them. "Guy – ca va?" He said , smiling.

"Ca va bien." Guilliame replied, then motioned to Brian and said in English. "This is my friend, Brian. He is visiting and I'm introducing him to as many of my English speaking friends as possible."

"Hello." The young man shook Brian's hand, not noticing the look he shot Guilliame at the word _friend. _"You are new to Paris, then?"

Brian was confused as to why this conversation was taking place, but he wasn't ready to be rude to the poor kid just yet. "Yeah, I'm here on business."

"Oh, well, I hope you will enjoy your time in the city… I could make a few … suggestions of what to do, if you like." The young man was giving Brian a look that made it unnecessary to guess the nature of those suggestions.

"I'll keep that in mind." Brian dismissed him…completely baffled until Guilliame spoke again.

"I don't know, Serge." He smiled at his friend. "You didn't have such good luck with the last American you met here."

"Ah, yes…" Serge turned to Brian. You wouldn't believe - a gorgeous little blond with the most talented…" He smiled and cleared his throat. "And he seemed so… what is the word… sweet. Until later – what a horror."

Brian narrowed his eyes. "What happened?"

The foolish man went on while Guilliame took not so secret delight in Brian's increasing discomfort. "I didn't think he was serious about me not spending the night and I passed out after – I mean he was so… _it _was … anyway, I woke up from a deep sleep to find him hysterical. And when he realized I was there … he threw me out! Can you imagine?"

"Yes." Brian snapped. "I mean no… go on."

"Well, I saw him a few days later and I was very nice – I thought, well… maybe he was not feeling well… who knows." The boy shrugged. "So I ask if he'd like to get together again and do you know what he tells me? You won't believe it."

Brian had a feeling he certainly would.

"He said… '_I've had you_'." The young man shook his head and gestured confusedly to Guilliame. "Now what is this supposed to mean? I've had you. Who says such a thing?!"

Brian turned his head a moment and tried to breathe. This was not happening. This was some cruel joke or something… Guilliame had found out he might be here and decided it was pay back time and… Fuck! He knew that was bullshit. He tried to focus on his surroundings and found that the foolish kid was still speaking.

"… but you don't look the type to do something so mean. I bet _you _really are sweet."

"Uh… Serge, why don't you return to the dance floor and we'll join you later perhaps." Guilliame winked at the young man, indicating he'd put in a good word.

"D'accord." The young man smiled and rejoined the throng of dancers.

Brian turned to Guilliame. "So – he fucked with one of your friends and you're pissed? What?"

"Not at all." Guilliame disagreed. "Everyone here is a big boy who should be able to look after himself. I just wondered if _your _boy could?"

"Excuse me?"

"Not that I care, but Justin seems like a nice boy who has had a bad example. Probably the best thing you could do for him is stay away."

"I'll take that under advisement." Brian said sarcastically, managing to sound as though Guilliame's words hadn't gutted him.

"Another drink?" The man asked casually.

"I don't think so." Brian said. "I just remembered something: you're annoying and my legs work." With that he left, not bothering to look behind him at what he was certain was a triumphant expression.

He'd gone into a variety of bars after that… it having seemed like a good idea at the time. He'd lost count of both drinks and blow jobs, and somehow ended up in a cab, trying to tell the driver that he was staying at the Bel Ami, without laughing wildly at the name. He didn't think the guy got the joke. He was sure Paul did though. The man escorted him around the side of the building and got him upstairs with a minimum of fuss and witnesses. And if the tray awaiting Brian when he awoke was any indication, Paul had also preordered a bloody Caesar for breakfast. Yep - a big _big _tip.

This morning he'd felt too crappy to do anything except shower and throw some clothes together before the day concierge called up that his car had arrived. On his way out the door he grabbed the book off the night stand and shoved it in his bag as well. It would give him something to hide behind in the event that Gilles wanted to converse on the way there.

Thankfully, that had not been the case and the trip was reasonably swift. Brian had to admit… as long as you had your own little compartment, as they did, then it wasn't a bad way to travel. They arrived without incident to find Gilles' Montpellier car waiting and they were swiftly whisked off to his house.

It was not what Brian expected. It was huge, of course, and extremely tasteful, but it didn't scream _billionaire. _He liked it – very much, in fact, but he'd always supposed that when you had that kind of money, everything was over the top. Apparently not and now he'd found something else to admire about Gilles – his taste.

"Brian, you are still looking a little tired." Gilles commented as he joined him in the kitchen, they having arrived shortly before. "And I have a number of boring errands to run. Why not relax for awhile and then we'll have an early dinner. What do you think – in say …three hours? About six?"

"That's fine." Brian was relieved. He could use some more down time. "Is there an Internet hook up anywhere?"

Gilles laughed at him. "That does not sound like relaxation Brian – that sounds like work."

Brian smiled. "I just want to check my email - _then _I'm going to relax."

"There's an outlet at the desk in your room. You shouldn't have any trouble hooking up your machine – I assume you brought it."

"Of course."

Gilles just shook his head. "Well, you must make yourself at home. I generally help myself around the kitchen, but just ask Lisette if there is anything you need and can't find."

Brian could think of something he couldn't find all right, but he doubted Lisette would be of much help. "Thanks. I'll see you later then."

"Yes, I won't be very long." Gilled turned back from the doorway. "I should mention – my daughter will probably join us for dinner. I think you'll like her."

"Great." Brian said to the man's retreating form.

"Great." He mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs to his room. "Well that answers the question of 'does he know I'm gay'. I should have realized there was a catch – he wants to set me up with his daughter for fuck sake!"

He sat down at the desk and plugged in his laptop, waited for it to boot up and thought about last night. He'd really let Guilliame get to him. Surprisingly he didn't give a shit. Let the guy gloat if it made him happy… it's not like he had to see him again. Brian had more important things to think about.

The description he'd received of Justin didn't mesh very well with the picture he had of a young man traveling around Europe, taking in all the artistic sites and pining for Brian. Maybe the guy was exaggerating. So Justin had been an asshole to one trick – big deal. Clearly he hadn't wanted the guy to stick around and he had – that might piss anybody off. It didn't mean Justin was screwing his way across Europe. And anyway… as soon as he got his hands on the kid there's only one guy he'd be fucking for awhile if Brian had anything to say about it – and he intended to.

Ah ha! He might be well on his way to making that happen, since there in his in-box was what he'd been waiting days for. _Finally, _the kid had checked his email and they could start a dialogue. Brian would read between the lines and weasel out of him where he was. Then he'd either show up there, or lure him here. He'd have him in Paris in no time and he'd make Justin feel like his vacation had just started.

He clicked on the message and began to read.

From: "Justin Taylor" j_taylor  
To: "Brian Kinney" kinneyb  
Subject: re:Tuition  
Date: Fri, Aug 9 2002 13:42:43 -0400

Brian,

I really appreciate that you wanted to pay for school, but I don't need the help. Thanks very much for offering though.

Justin

That's it? That's fucking it?! Where were the clues about where he was? The subtle inquiries about Brian? The fucking verbosity for Christ's sake? Justin hadn't been succinct in his life and he starts now? Two sentences. There was nothing for Brian to read between in two goddamn sentences. This was all wrong.

Fuck - he was crazy. What had he been thinking… get Justin back. Yeah right – what for? To be confused again; to be tortured again?

"No." His inner voice was kind to him this time. "To be loved again."

Brian got up from the desk, stalked over to his bed and flopped down with an annoyed sigh. Fuck. Now what? He was tired of thinking about this. Should he give up? Accept that it was over and that's all?

Except… except he didn't want to. What he wanted was Justin and it hardly seemed fair that just as he was ready to act on that – everything seemed to conspire against him. Why was that? He was ready to try to make the fucking romantic gestures, if that's what it took. The fact that he was should convince Justin to come home.

Brian closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to imagine what that would be like. He remembered how he used to come home from a brutal day to find his favorite CD playing and something great smelling in the kitchen. And something even better smelling in his bedroom. He remembered the dance floor at Babylon where he knew that they were the focus of everyone in the room and yet all he could focus on were the lithe limbs entangled in his, and the angelic smile that could make him do anything. The Sunday mornings they spent in bed, before the outside world could intrude; they would huddle in that shelter and be safe from outside expectations. The playful talk and caressing that occurred was something Brian missed more than the sex – and he didn't think that was possible.

Well there was his answer. There was no way he was giving up. Granted, Guilliame's revelations combined with Justin's terse note, did not do much in the way of encouragement. However, maybe the incident with Guilliame's friend had been an exception – Justin having an off day… or two. And maybe the email to him had been short because he thought that's what Brian wanted. Brian's better judgment ignored for the moment, he convinced himself that all this was the case.

Well… he'd show Justin what he _really _wanted. As soon as he could find him, that is.

_xxxx_

**VIII ~ Strength **: Love is a source of strength. Finding the strength to begin or continue with some difficult project despite fear and emotional strain. Strength to endure despite all obstacles. Trying to keep your emotions in hand; learning to handle intense emotional situations calmly. Acting passionately and having strong desires. Love for what you do. Enthusiasm. "Lust" for your own creativity. Courage to take risks. Harnessing natural energy so you can work in harmony with it.  
In a reading: You have the innate ability to deal with whatever life brings. Draw on your enormous energy to break through and overcome obstacles even when you think you are too fatigued. You take control of your own destiny and move forward with your plans. By cultivating inner fortitude you attract the contacts and opportunities you need.


	11. The Hermit

**A/N: Hope you guys are still out there and into the story. Do let me know what you think – however briefly. All feedback is appreciated!**

_xxxx_

Brian's stomach awoke before the rest of him, and he returned to consciousness to find an appealing aroma infiltrating his nostrils. Although he had no idea what it was, he was certainly looking forward to eating it. He glanced at the clock beside his bed to discover that is was just after 5:30 and he'd been asleep for over two hours. Gilles had mentioned having dinner at six, so Brian swiftly washed up in the ensuite bathroom, and then changed his shirt.

While he got ready, he thought back to his decision regarding Justin. Plan B it was: He'd simply have to ask Mel for her assistance – as distasteful as that would be. Jesus, that was twice this month alone; she'd probably drop dead from the shock of it. Actually, _that _prospect held some appeal – as long as she helped him out first.  
Ok, so the kid had been terse in his reply. And if Guilliame were to be believed, Justin had also been rather generous with his favors while visiting Paris. Big deal. Brian refused to be unduly daunted. He always got what he wanted … if he wanted it badly enough, that is. This situation had, admittedly, become more of a challenge – but he'd never been the kind of man to back down from one of those.

He knew it would work. Mel could make up something about Justin needing to agree to the settlement in writing, and that it had to be done in front of some lawyer Mel would dig up in Paris. Simple as that, and he'd have him there. He'd call Mel Sunday night upon his return and arrange it with her, as well as take the opportunity to check in with Lindsay and sonny boy. His commitment to the plan confirmed, Brian left his room and headed for the stairs.

As he descended, he could hear a woman's laughter coming from the direction of the library. Fuck - the daughter! Or _not _– which, naturally, was his preference. Well, if it got too bad he'd simply tell them the truth, that's all. There was really no other polite way to refuse the advances of an influential woman, or the female kin of a man who was. In fact, he was sure plenty of straight guys had tried it. He pulled his shoulders back, took a breath, and pushed open the partially ajar door in front of him.

"Brian – there you are." Gilles greeted him pleasantly. "I believe you were able to get some rest, after all. You certainly look as though you feel a little better."

"Thanks – I do." And it was true.

"Good to hear." The man nodded. "I hope you have an appetite as well."

"Absolutely." Brian confirmed. "Something smells great."

"Well neither of us can take credit for that, but Lisette will be happy to hear the praise." The woman next to Gilles commented, before standing and offering her hand to Brian. "Hi - I'm Delphine Michaud: daughter of the rude man who forgot to introduce me."

"My dear, really - I barely had time." Gilles defended. "You are simply too impatient."

Brian shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Please have a seat Brian." Gilles offered. "Dinner should be ready any time now, I believe."

Brian sank into one of the dark green wingbacks next to the fireplace, and propped one leg elegantly on the knee of the other.

"Can I get you a drink?" Delphine offered as she made her way to the small bar.

Brian planned on taking it easy after last night and decided, therefore, on something reasonably innocuous. "I'll just have a glass of red – whatever you recommend."

"Pour him some of that Bordeaux I opened earlier, Cherie." Gilles directed then turned his attention back to his guest. "I confess, we've been sitting down here drinking too much wine for the last hour."

The young woman did as her father suggested, then crossed the room, and handed the glass to Brian.

"Thanks, Delphine." Brian accepted it from her and took a sip.

"Call me Del, please - all my friends do." The young woman smiled, then added mischievously. "And I'd certainly like to us to be friendly."

Brian almost spit the wine back out in surprise – he wasn't expecting them to be so overt. Before he could formulate a reply, Gilles began to laugh.

"You waste your time, my darling, obvious girl." Gilles informed her. "I don't believe that you are Brian's type."

She appraised Brian for a moment and then grinned. "Oh well – never hurts to try." She shrugged. "Keep him away from Uncle Stéphane then – he won't be safe." With that she headed towards the door and tossed over her shoulder, "I'll see if dinner is ready."

Brian looked at Gilles with bewilderment, but tried to _sound _unfazed, at least. "Uncle Stéphane would disapprove?"

"Quite the contrary, in fact." Gilles explained. "I think my daughter fears for your virtue."

Brian laughed at the thought of that word reflecting anything about him. "I see – and would I be interested?"

"Well he is my youngerbrother, if that makes a difference." Gilles smiled. "But only by a few years – and something tells me you don't go for older men."

"Not exactly." Brian was amused. "I have to admit Gilles, I was curious as to how thorough your research about me was."

"Oh, that was not in any of the information I received, Brian." The man shook his head. "I suspected as much when I met you in New York. You don't have to actually _be _gay to have gaydar, you know. Although, admittedly, that does make it easier. At any rate, I wasn't entirely sure."

"I see." Brian nodded and rolled in his lips a bit before inquiring, "How sure were you?"

"Oh – let's say about ninety percent." Gilles guessed. "I go out for dinner or drinks a few times a month with Stéphane, and it's always …an education." Gilles went on. "I think I'm pretty good at detecting, after all these years."

Brian huffed a laugh. "I'm sure."

"Do you mind that I said anything?" Gilles asked, concerned. "I certainly did not mean to overstep any boundaries."

"Don't worry about it." Brian assured him. "It's not often something that comes up with a client, that's all." Brian chose to ignore the few times it had indeed _come up_ with a client… and continued speaking. "Although, I did wonder if you knew when you booked me into the Bel Ami Hotel."

Gilles cocked his head in confusion. "I don't think I understand."

"You know… as in Bel Ami boy?" Brian tried again, and at Gilles' shrug, merely shook his head with a grin. "You know what? Tell your brother about it the next time you see him… and let me know if he laughs. I have a feeling your education is incomplete."

"I'll do that." Gilles smiled confusedly, suspecting that Brian's instruction would make him the butt of Stephan's teasing for months to come.

At that moment Delphine swept back into the room. "Gentlemen – dinner is served!"

Brian followed his host to the dining room and continued smiling to himself. An old, _straight _guy who was actually… pretty cool. Would wonders never cease.

_xxxx_

It had been awhile since he'd stayed in on a Friday night. Montpellier had any number of appealing distractions, but Justin figured if he was really going to spend the day at the beach with Andy and Cal again tomorrow, he'd be better off minus the hangover. Those were getting a little tedious anyway. He always intended to take it easy, but he found himself loaded before he knew it. It just seemed that no trick pleased him unless he'd had a few. It made it so much easier when their features blurred, and then morphed into something more… familiar.

He resolved every time not to do it, of course, but he couldn't help himself. In his more introspective moments, Justin rationalized that it was simply a way of working out his demons – like he did in his drawings. Speaking of which. Maybe he'd see if he could actually manage one without including that particular demon this time.

He took out a pad and began lightly sketching the view out his window. There was a fenced courtyard, which Madeline's small hotel backed onto and shared with the building opposite. In it were a few stone benches as well as a running fountain, under a reasonably shady tree. Justin had gone to sit out there to read or sketch countless times since his arrival here. And after he moved to the larger room, it became his view as well.

The lights were creating interesting shadows around the tree and fountain, and it got Justin thinking about the stories of Irish fairies that Fiona had told him about one night, after _far _too much alcohol. They had both laughed over their drinks at tales of Pooka's and Leprechauns, but looking out the window now at the quiet garden, Justin could picture the creatures she'd described… existing in just this sort of setting.

For a while he attempted to draw what he imagined, but eventually found that it would not be his night for kicking the habit. It seemed that as hard as he tried, until he included at least some part of that other picture, he could not finish. Tonight it was harder to find though; that face hidden in the shadows among all the mythical creatures in the garden he drew. In some sketches he was barely able to find it later himself, but in others it was all too obvious – at least to anyone who looked.

After about half an hour he put down his pad on the window seat and sighed. Clearly this wasn't working. And since he'd had nothing in the way of booze tonight, it was a sure bet he'd find himself awakened early. He might as well get as much sleep as he could by crashing now. Justin turned out the lamp and crawled into bed, still wearing his sweat pants. He lay there on his back and stared at the lights dancing across his ceiling.

Madeline's hotel was truly more of a large pensione. It was a very old three-story building, with a stone exterior that looked like it could withstand anything… and probably had. It's inside walls were just as solid apparently, since no one had ever reported hearing any alarming noise coming from Justin's suite – and there had certainly been some.

Actually, his room was kind of neat. It was in a corner on the top floor, and when the lanterns on the restaurant patio next door were lit, they created a dazzling display on his ceiling. It was they that had inspired the look of his sketch, and he had substituted their light for that of real fairy magic.

He thought about that word - fairy. He was well aware that it was meant to be derogatory to someone of his sexual persuasion, but he just didn't view it as a particularly pejorative term. If anything it seemed only …silly, as though the would-be bully could think of nothing better. And after the stories Fiona had told him, he was even less inclined to feel insulted. Fine – he could be a fairy… it's not like he had anything better to do. He mulled it over as a way of avoiding other thoughts… ones that were likely to deprive him of sleep rather than speed it's arrival.

Okay fairies, hmmm… what kind would he like to be? Not a Pooka, although that would be handy for getting even with a few people. But ultimately, no – it was too creepy. Justin yawned and shifted onto his side a bit, pulling the sheet up around him. So - not a Pooka… and not a Banshee either, since he refused to be any kind of girl fairy. Although if that _were _the case, a Banshee would be a good choice since he'd already be wailing.

Justin noted that he was starting to get dozy, because none of this seemed as ridiculous as it should; he was actually treating this seriously. Well – they wouldn't be the weirdest thoughts he'd ever had. And hey… whatever kept him out of trouble and put him to sleep.

Okay, so - how about being a Brownie? Nah – he didn't dig that tidy vibe they had going. God, Brian would though. He smiled to himself – there were some similarities there for sure. Oops…hey – that thought hadn't hurt. Interesting. Usually he got these searing pains in his chest when he thought about Brian. However, now that he considered it more carefully, he was usually dwelling on how things had been when it ended, and less about how much fun a lot of their time together had been. And it _had _been fun. Brian had a very sweet nature and a silly sense of humor at times.

That was the Brian who took a chance and came to dance with him at his Prom. Justin immediately banished that thought. Shit… and he'd been doing so well. He'd decided on no prom memories anymore – it didn't do him any good. He'd become able to shut them down pretty quickly if he had to, though. In fact, he had become quite adept at managing his thoughts and feelings in general since leaving the Pitts. Brian would be impressed.

Justin sighed and burrowed further into the comfortable bed. So… no Brownies, Pookas or Banshees. What did that leave him with? Hmmm. A Selkie – that's what he'd be. For starters they didn't resemble trolls like so many of the other types of fairy seemed to. In fact they were meant to possess "unearthly beauty". At least - that was the way Fiona described them. This was when they weren't swimming around the sea, of course. That was the other appeal; he'd always loved the water, so being a creature who was a seal during the day, but a human at night – sounded like an okay deal. He wouldn't mind just the seal part; except that he was too fond of some of the activities that being a man afforded him.

Actually, in many ways he felt more like a man these days. Although he was sure an argument could, and undoubtedly would, be made for calling his behavior childish. But all the people who would make that argument were far, far away. Though Justin loved them, he wasn't ready to live the way they all seemed to want him to. Expected him to. It wasn't just his mother, either. They _all _seemed to have a very good idea of what his life should be like. The only person that didn't know… was him.

However, Justin had come to the decision that he didn't need to follow everyone else's plans as a result of his own confusion. What he needed to do was take a breather, and figure out what _he _wanted. When he was going to finally do that, he wasn't sure, but he'd heard that time heals all wounds… maybe it helped sort out priorities too.

It's not that he didn't want a degree from PIFA. If they moved the school to France, he'd be all over it. The problem was that it wasn't in France – it was in Pittsburgh… along with all of his problems. So he'd make a life here for himself… at least for now. Eventually his mother would accept it and she and Molly might even visit. He knew that day was a long way off, but it didn't stop him from dreaming. As for the rest of it - he figured that one day it would just stop hurting and he'd be fine. He just had to hang in there and cope until that day came.

And now that he'd discovered that the happier memories of his time with Brian didn't make his situation any worse, he indulged in a little mental home movie to help him sleep. In a way Justin wished he had more of those memories to draw on. After all, he thought as he made his way closer to slumber, he'd have to make them last a lifetime.

If he had his way, he'd convince Brian that being a Brownie wasn't the way to go at all. He would make them both Selkies – besides - Brian liked to swim. They could goof off all day in the ocean, and torment the other sea creatures with their antics. Then once the moon was out, they'd dance and make love all night as men. Justin smiled slightly as he drifted closer to sleep, to dream of that perfect life. And all he had to do was turn them both into Irish fairy folk. Would that it were that easy.

_xxxx_

The preceding evening had been, strangely, a lot of fun. Brian had been prepared for it to be mildly pleasant, certainly, but not to be so thoroughly… entertaining. The meal lasted until eleven o'clock at night, and apparently this was the norm. The odd thing was that it seemed as if hardly any time had passed. The food had been ridiculously good - a balsamic vinegar salad, followed by simple roast chicken and rice, not to mention the fresh bread. Thank God dessert had been a bowl of fresh fruit. He skipped the cream with it though, and also managed to avoid the after-dinner cheese plate. He did not, however, succeed in avoiding the bottles of wine and brandy that were opened. He hadn't felt drunk, just nicely… buzzed.

It wasn't only the meal that had been so enjoyable. Gilles and his daughter were excellent conversationalists on a wide variety of topics, and Brian had welcomed the chance to stretch his mental muscles. It's not as though his friends at home were simpletons; in fact a few were decidedly intelligent and well read, while others were blessed with uncommon, common sense. It was just that he didn't seem to have the kind of relationship with them where culture, politics, or literary interests were regular topics of discussion. Actually, he didn't think he'd seriously debated a book with anyone since he'd lived with Justin. Brian had always been proud of how smart that kid was.

At any rate, he enjoyed being kept on his toes last night – he had missed it. He found himself very at ease with these people; everything about the evening had been relaxed and uncomplicated. Maybe it was the different setting, or maybe the knowledge that they were not really part of his regular personal life, and thus had no idea how Brian Kinney was expected to behave.

He awoke this morning feeling extremely well rested and looking forward to an interesting day. Delphine had offered to take him on a tour of the city, after which they would meet Gilles for a late dinner. He was glad to have discovered that Delphine had a boyfriend, and had merely been engaging in a little harmless flirting when they met. He felt foolish for assuming that he had been the target of any kind of set up, and to his further chagrin… had admitted it to his hosts after that last brandy. It had taken father and daughter a full ten minutes to stop laughing and in the end, Brian had joined them.

He thought he'd heard Delphine arrive this morning when he was getting ready, so he was not surprised when he walked into the kitchen and found her next to her father, both of them inspecting something on the counter.

"Il fait très beau, mon chere. Merci."

"De rien, papa." She kissed his cheek.

Gilles turned and saw Brian enter the kitchen. "Ah… good morning, Brian."

"Gilles. Del." He nodded and approached them. "What's so …très beau?"

"Oh, that was bad." Delphine laughed at the silly rhyme.

Gilles chuckled a bit and held up the object of their discussion for Brian's inspection. "A little something Delphine was kind enough to have framed for me." He handed the small picture carefully to Brian. "It was here that I proposed to my wife, Veronique."

Brian admired the sketch of what appeared to be some kind of enormous gazebo, surrounded by water. "What is it?"

"It's called the Chateau D'eau." Delphine explained. "It's on the tour today, don't worry."

"Is it some kind of ruin?"

"No, it's in very good condition." Gilles told him. "It's not terribly old, really – its purpose was to hide an 18th-century aqueduct extending back from the top of the hill to a source a kilometre or so away."

Brian looked at the drawing more closely. The attention to detail was very good. It was the sort of thing Justin had excelled at before Hobbes' impromptu batting practice. The young artist had gotten progressively better, but he hadn't fully returned to this level yet. "Is this a good likeness?"

"Absolutely." She nodded. "And it was a starving student purchase too."

"I still consider it quite the deal." Gilles smiled as Brian put the drawing back on the counter. "I'm going to hang it in my den this morning. Thank you again Cherie." He turned back to Brian. "Now… Lisette has put out some fruit and croissants. I urge you to eat well my friend – I'm privy to your grueling itinerary."

"I'll be fine." Brian said absently, his eyes still curiously drawn to the picture and his head full of memories. "I need to work off some of this French food, anyway."

_xxxx_

"Justin?" Andrew called into the back again. "Justin!"

His room-mate looked at him from the drivers seat and shook his head. "Give it up, Andy - he's still out."

"Bloody oath!"

"Well, you told me the doctor said he's likely to be done for the night."

"I know I know." Andy looked at Cal and shrugged. "What I'd _really _like to know, is how the bloody hell we're to get him past Maddy like this. She's sure give Fee the drum, and then won't we catch it."

"Strewth." Cal agreed, then added optimistically. "Maybe Madeleine won't be there."

Andrew hoped his friend was right, but he doubted their good fortune would extend that far. They'd been lucky as it was. "Thank God it isn't too bad."

"You're going to have to stay with him tonight, you know...I'm dead sorry that I can't."

"You have to work earlier than me tomorrow, and I'll be closer to the cafe at Justin's anyway." Andy rationalized. "No worries."

"Too bad." Cal laughed. "I would have loved to tease him later about being at my mercy… all naked and unconscious…"

"Maybe it's cause I'm straight, but I don't get how you could even joke about the appeal of that after the liquid laugh." Andrew made a face.

"Gross." Cal wrinkled his nose and faced his room-mate. "Thanks for reminding me." He returned his attention to the road. "At least he was conscious enough for mouthwash."

"We should have known better." Andy was annoyed. "He had that headache last time and I'm sure it was from dehydration then too. We should have thought of that and reminded him about drinking more. Not like we don't know better."

"Hey – don't look at me, mate." Cal protested. "You're the one who kept saying, 'what's one more margarita?'"

"Oh shut up." Andrew groused.

"What was that you told the doctor… about a head injury?" Cal had overheard part of the conversation when a hotel doctor had checked Justin out.

"Something he mentioned once." Andy shrugged. "He's got this scar that I noticed after the tan he picked up last time, and I asked him about it."

"I haven't seen a scar – and I've tried to look at him pretty closely."

"Actually, Fiona noticed it and I happened to be there when she did." Andrew confessed.

"What's it from?"

"He used to play baseball – accidentally got smacked in the head with a bat."

"Ouch." Cal cringed. "Was it serious?"

"Quite, I guess." Andy nodded. "That's why I mentioned it. I didn't know whether is would change anything the doctor did."

"What did he say?"

"There was no swelling or anything, and it really didn't affect his condition – which is a mild case of sunstroke. He'll feel like crap tomorrow, but he'll be fine."

Cal was quiet a moment. "You know what… we should just tell Fee. She might do well to keep an eye on him too. I've been kind of worried about him."

"Ok." His friend agreed. "I know what you mean. Hey – and maybe she'll let me come in late tomorrow for sitting up with him."

_xxxx_

"Thanks again, Del." Brian said as he kept pace with the energetic girl beside him. "It was really interesting, but it still amazes me to hear you and your father refer to that giant gazebo as 'not very old'."

"Compared to some of the structures in this part of the country, Brian… it isn't." Delphine assured him. "Take that aqueduct… there's one near Nimes, not far from Papa's manufacturing plant, that is _really _old. It was begun in about 19 BC."

Brian was impressed. "And it's still standing?"

"Parts of it, yes." She nodded. "It's called Pont du Gard; I'll take you to see it another time. It was the original supply of water for Nimes when…"

Brian stopped in mid stride. "What did you say?"

"I'll take you another time? Unless you want to…"

"No." Brian interrupted. "The other thing. You said original supply of water…"

"And?" Delphine wondered what was wrong with him.

"Nothing." Brian shook his head, but then admitted. "You got me thinking about the name for our U.S. launch. Some kind of play on words with Original Source or just Original… both those words in French are close enough to English that people will get it." Brian continued walking again and thinking aloud, while an amused Delphine now tried to keep up with him.

"And that drawing." He snapped his fingers. "That drawing gives me an idea. I can picture a sketch like that of your aqueduct on the label. And for a commercial… I can already see it… the actual picture of the thing fading into the label on the bottle, and something brief and catchy about it being the original. Oh – that's good." He grinned widely and put his arm around Delphine for a second and squeezed, elated that he _finally _had a concept to work with.

"Sounds great to me." She was impressed with his train of thought. "You might do well to talk to the artist who did my father's sketch. They obviously have the subject matter down and maybe you could get them to tailor it to just what you want."

"I thought it was some starving student." Brian reminded her.

Delphine simply shrugged. "So? Think of it as helping to finance some future artist's education."

Brian gave a small laugh at that. "Yeah – that'd be a first." The idea did appeal to him. He would like to think that someone would give Justin a chance like that one day.

"Well, you're in luck." Delphine continued. "The place I am, as my father says, dragging you to… is where we bought it."

"What time is Gilles meeting us?"

"Eight-thirty." She informed him, as she checked watch. "That gives us over an hour for drinks."

"I think I'll take it easy on those, thanks."

"Hung over again today?"

"Again?" Brian raised a brow as they walked up to a brick building with full-length windows that were open to the street. "What makes you think I was hung over yesterday?"

Delphine opened the door in front of her and turned her head to address him as she stepped in. "Before you came down for dinner, my father said he thought you were sleeping one off."

Brian followed her into the cozy café and shook his head. "Jesus – he doesn't miss much, does he."

Delphine smiled. "Try being a teenage girl living with those observational skills in the same house."

"My condolences." Brian snickered.

Delphine joined him in his laughter until an attractive woman of forty something, with curly reddish hair and clear hazel eyes approached them. "Well, and are you going to share the joke?" She asked with a smile.

They both looked at her and Delphine spoke. "I would Fiona, but you had to have the back story."

"Ah, well then…" she nodded. "I understand. Here for a spot of supper, are you?"

"Actually, just drinks right now, but my father will be joining us later." Delphine explained. "You probably don't remember, but he bought one of these sketches." She gestured to the pictures that were scattered about the far wall.

"And who could forget such a sad tale as that." Fiona recalled. "It was a picture of where he met your mother, wasn't it?"

"Proposed to her." Delphine corrected. "But you're close." She gestured to a table by the window. "Is it all right if we have the same seat as last time?"

"Oh, I should think so." Fiona led the way to the table and pulled out a chair. "And have I seen you before?" She directed her question to Brian. "You look a bit familiar."

"This is my first time here."

"I've been in here with my boyfriend several times." Delphine volunteered. "Maybe you're thinking of him."

"That could be." Fiona supposed aloud, but she didn't really think so.

"He's tall as well, but he's about 5 years younger…"

"Hey!" Brian protested. "You have no idea how old I am."

Delphine rolled her eyes and continued. "His hair is lighter too and he's got brown eyes."

"Somebody's got it bad." Brian laughed at her then wiggled his eyebrows. "He sounds hot, would I like him?"

"You don't get to meet him." She stuck out her tongue. "Given some of the things you told me last night after my father went to bed, I don't trust you."

"I'm hurt." He mocked with a grin.

Fiona smiled indulgently at their banter. Her gaydar was definitely off – she hadn't pegged him at all. She needed a refresher course, she guessed. And she certainly did remember the father – he was a dish. "I'll send your waiter right over, luv and you can enjoy some drinks until your father arrives."

"Thanks." Delphine took the seat by the window, while Brian sat facing the street. "Actually, we may want to ask you about the artist when papa arrives, if that's Ok."

"Fine." Fiona nodded. "When he comes, flag me down and I'll be pleased to…"

"Fiona!" Marc popped his head out and called to her. "Je n'ai plus d'agneau."

"D'accord." Fiona replied. "Juste une minute. " She turned back to them and said apologetically. "You'll have to excuse me. It's Greek night and if we're going to keep lamb on the menu, I'd best go down to the freezer."

After she went into the back and they'd given their drink orders, Brian turned to Delphine. "This is an interesting place. How's the food?"

"Excellent, believe it or not." She promised. "My father hates these types of places, but after the first time I brought him, he said, 'il n'est pas sans mérite'."

Brian raised his eyebrows. "I'll get it eventually, but save me the time… "

"It's not without merit." She translated. "That's his highest form of praise when it comes to things that I like."

Brian could get that. Describing something as 'all right' was his version of calling it sensational. Apparently Gilles was also given to understatement. "I'm surprised he doesn't meet you here more often when he's in town." Brian commented. "It can't be more than a thirty minute walk from the house."

"Twenty." She informed him. "Fifteen, if I take the short cut. But I only just moved back here myself, so we haven't had much time to really get into a routine."

"That's right, you were in London last year." Brian remembered as their drinks arrived. "Are you happy to be home?"

"Yes and no." She shrugged. "There's a certain freedom in being someplace where no one knows you. You can break out of your old roles and be someone else for awhile."

"I know what you mean." Brian nodded.

"And I love being near to my father again, but it does tend to make me feel fifteen, not twenty-five."

"I wouldn't worry about it." Brian told her, thinking of his recent rapprochement with his mother. "I suspect you always feel like a child around them to a certain extent."

"That's a discouraging thought." She laughed. "Are you close to your parents too?"

This was the point at which Brian would normally shut down personal conversation, but he found that his feelings of ease from the previous evening remained. He wasn't Brian Kinney, Liberty Avenue stud right now. He was just a guy chatting with a new friend, that he wasn't likely to see again after his business here concluded.

"No." Brian found himself answering truthfully. "I'm not, but I came out to my Dad right before he died. He wasn't around long enough for us to chat about it much. Not that Jack was a big talker anyway." He shook his head – amazed to find himself discussing this, but not really minding. "My mother has drowned herself in either a sherry bottle, or religion, or god forbid… both at the same time, for as long as I can remember. She just found out that I'm gay this year."

"Really." Delphine asked, wide eyed. "How did she take it?"

"She sort of dropped in unannounced while my boyfriend and I were… busy." Brian confessed. "So… not too well, actually."

"Oh my God!" She shrieked, and then giggled. After a moment she stopped and lowered her voice. "I'm so sorry; that… that isn't funny." She lost the struggle to hold her laughter in, but he simply smiled.

"Yeah… it is pretty funny." He acknowledged. "Not at the time, of course. She wasn't exactly brimming with love and support."

"That's too bad." Delphine said seriously. "How about now?"

"Now we're… talking." Brian said. "Her minister is a decent guy with an open mind, and he's trying to pry hers open too."

"Does she get along with your boyfriend?" Delphine wondered.

"What's ironic is that she'd probably love him." Brian shrugged, then looked out the window. "But we aren't together anymore."

"I'm sorry." She sympathized.

Brian turned back and gave her a small smile. "Me too." He admitted.

"You sure you don't want a few more drinks?" She coaxed with a grin.

Gilles had been right: Brian liked this girl. "You guys don't get up early for church or anything, do you?"

"God, no!" She promised.

"Ok – more drinks it is." He caved. "But don't let me get fucked up before your dad gets here. I don't want to be any more revealing in front of a client than I already have, even one I like as much as Gilles."

She waved the waiter over, then turned to Brian with a mischievous grin. "You mean there's worse stuff than you already told me? I'm all ears..."

"I don't think so." He shook his head. "Trust me – you've heard more than anybody has in awhile. Like you said – being away from home lets you take a vacation from yourself."

"Exactly." She agreed. "And since you don't usually dish… why not give me the full scoop." Then she leaned in and said persuasively. "If you do, I promise to share some gossip about my father."

"We'll see." Brian teased. "Let's hear yours first."

The waiter came for their orders and upon his departure Delphine addressed Brian again. "Okay… you know the woman who seated us?"

Brian nodded and said nothing, noting the lowered voice.

"She's the owner - and I think he's got a little crush on her." Delphine smothered a laugh. "He kept going on later about how much she looked like Susan Sarandon in Bull Durham, and how charming her accent was."

Brian looked over at the woman now seating another couple. He guessed he could see that, although Kevin Costner would be more his type. "Not bad, but that's it?"

"Not quite." Delphine continued. "I dropped by the house for something the following weekend …and I caught him having a little one woman film festival."

Brian finally burst out laughing, trying to imagine the normally cultured Gilles in front of the big screen TV, eating popcorn and drooling over Susan Sarandon. "Get out of here."

She laughed as well, tears coming to her eyes. "It's true. In his defense, he had a terrible cold and decided to just lay around and recover for the weekend. But he had, I swear, a dozen of her movies, including Thelma and Louise and... believe or not, The Rocky Horror Picture Show."

""Stop it." Brian almost choked on his wine. "Now I _know _you're making this up."

"I'm not." She promised. "Not only that, but they weren't rentals – he bought them."

Brian, try as he might, could not picture it. "You're right – he has a crush on her."

"So?" She prodded. "Will you spill now?"

"After I just found out what a gossip you are?" Brian feigned incredulity. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Hey, no fair!"

_xxxx_

"Hey, no fair." Andrew protested. "Why should I be the one to tell her; he's your friend too."

"Yeah, but you work for her."

"Exactly... and I'd like to keep my job."

"Don't be such a girl." Cal scoffed. "Just go in there and explain it to her. She'll probably want to come see that he's actually all right."

"Fine." Andrew huffed, as Cal pulled up in front and stopped the car. "But if she kills me, you'll have to manage the rent on your own."

"I'll chance it." Cal gave him a shove.

"If he weren't so sick, I'd kill him." Andrew said, gesturing to their inert friend, as he got out of the car and headed into the café.

_xxxx_

Fiona could not help, what she hoped was, her surreptitious study of the good-looking fellow seated by the window. She could swear she'd met him before. She didn't catch a name… but she wasn't very good with them anyway. Take the sweet girl with him – the one who had the attractive father – she came in regularly and Fiona still couldn't remember hers. Ah well.

She picked up her beer and noticed a car pull up outside. Apparently, the boys had come back early. They'd best not be clubbing it tonight or she'd have a word or two for them; they all had things to do in the morning. She wondered why they were stopping by here and assumed she was about to find out, as Andrew walked in the door and came towards her.

When he reached Fiona, Andrew leaned in and whispered to her for a moment, trying to keep things as low key as possible, and quiet for the supper crowd.

"Don't be after tellin' me he's passed out in the car!" She shouted.

Brian had been about to further grill Delphine about her boyfriend, when they were interrupted by the panicked voice heading for the door. Fortunately they were one of the only tables close enough to hear her, but they were both curious as to whom Fiona might be referring to. They exchanged an amused glance and looked on with interest, as Fiona went outside and opened the door to the little Citroen, then leaned inside.

"I can't believe this." She said, obviously upset. "I completely forgot to remind him about a hat. And you boys – you both know better than this. You grew up in a blessed desert for Christ's sake."

"We're sorry, Fee." Andrew offered.

"Well sorry isn't going to make Justin feel any better when he wakes up, now is it."

Brian froze. What the fuck? It couldn't be. It was just too… He moved without thinking.

"I guess it must be her son or something. I didn't know she… Brian?" Delphine was startled as her companion pushed back his chair and rushed outside. "Brian?" She called as she got up and ran after him. "What's going on?"

"That's what I'd like to know." The man said as he reached the car. "Is everything all right? I thought I heard…" Brian trailed off as he got a look in the back seat of the car. "Jesus Christ!"

Delphine took in the man's ashen face. "Brian – are you all right?" The concern evident in her voice.

"Your name is Brian?" Fiona whipped around and suddenly figured out why she recognized him. He was all over the wall of her café, albeit somewhat camouflaged. She looked back at an oblivious Justin and sighed. "Well, isn't this a nice mess."

**IX ~ The Hermit**: Picture Diogenes searching for the truth. His journey is solitary, self-contained, the path of the truth seeker. One way or another the hermit finds the answers to his questions, solves his problems, completes his projects. He symbolizes the deeper levels of the psyche, the wisdom of the higher self. This card often appears when it's time to get serious about your life, open yourself up to new possibilities and new behaviours.

In a reading: The period of physical and/or emotional solitude you've been in is nearing completion. Having retreated into yourself, relationship is not currently a priority in your life. It often means that you will connect with someone soon, though. It can mean a romance is rekindled, or a person you regard as a mentor or a guide becomes something more in the not too distant future. Often when this card appears in a reading, it indicates that a guide is available for the querant, and that they should keep their eyes open in order to see this person who is willing to help and assist them. A chance meeting can guide the seeker on the right path.


	12. Wheel of Fortune

**A/N: Thanks so much to those who've reviewed - it is so very much appreciated! To those who haven't - please drop a line and let me know what you like/don't like or even just let me know you're following it. :)**

_xxxx_

As he made his way towards consciousness, every part of his body protesting it, Justin realized that he must have done it again. Fuck. He remembered racing Andy out to one of the mooring buoys, and he was pretty sure it was then that the trouble started. The loser was to buy the winner a pitcher of margaritas from the hotel's sea-side bar. They'd been camped out on the private beach of a fairly high-end resort just outside Beziers, and since Cal was friendly with one of the front desk guys, he had got them all passes for the day.

Shortly after Justin's victorious swim, they made the acquaintance of another American, a student who was also hitting the beach that day – as well as hitting on Justin. He joined them for a while, which evened out their numbers for volleyball and… well… the margaritas just kept coming. The pounding in Justin's brain this morning would seem to indicate that they were no longer his drink.

He didn't think he'd had that many actually, and he certainly hadn't intended to get drunk, but apparently …he'd done just that. Justin also had a vague recollection of getting sick at some point and he hoped it wasn't in the car - or Cal was going to kill him. This was hardly the first time one of the guys had poured him into the little Citroen and taken him home after a night of overindulgence, but if he'd yacked in Cal's car… it might well be the _last _time. Christ, he really didn't think he could feel any crappier.

A slight movement on the bed behind him belied that thought, and crappy didn't begin to cover what he felt now. Fuck - he must have brought the American kid back, and worse – the guy had not left as instructed. No matter how drunk he was, Justin never forgot to tell them when to leave. Well… if someone chose to ignore his instructions after he passed out, Justin could hardly be expected to be hospitable upon waking. Actually, he barely remembered the face of last night's fuck, but that wasn't unusual. They all looked the same to him, which was just how he preferred it. And he certainly didn't feel like dispelling that fantasy this morning.

Justin sat up, keeping his back to the trick, thankful to at least be on the bathroom side of the bed. He stood up gingerly, saying over his shoulder. "Look, buddy… I'm sure you were great and everything, but I'm also sure that the rules were made plain at some point… out by two – and no exceptions."

As he held his aching head and began walking towards the washroom, he thought he heard an intake of breath, as though the trick were about to speak… so Justin spoke first. "Oh - and no repeats, either." He hated it when they tried to coax him into round two. Best to disabuse the guy of that idea, right away. "Now I'm going to take a shower, but I'll be back." He said. "Do us both a favour … don't be here."

With that, Justin slammed the bathroom door and cringed as the noise of it reverberated throughout his skull. Well – he probably deserved that. It wasn't that he had anything against these guys, but he didn't want to see them again and it was easier to make them believe that when he acted like a prick. A behaviour that was starting to come all too naturally to him.

Unable to move, the discarded trick stared in shock at the door that had shut behind Justin's naked form.

"Holy shit." Brian whispered to himself.

_xxxx_

Fiona couldn't believe she was up this early - well… early for her, anyway. Her normal custom was to leave the breakfast crowd to Josette and whoever was scheduled to serve, but this particular morning found Fiona pacing nervously behind the bar, and wishing desperately that she still smoked. It took most of her restraint not to rush over to the hotel and barge into Justin's room, or at the very least ask Maddy if she'd seen or heard anything yet. The remaining amount of her self-control, she spent trying not to beg a cigarette from one of the waiters.

She supposed she'd hear something soon enough. Fiona didn't really want to bother Madeline this morning, anyway. The poor woman had been bothered enough already, what with the commotion outside her door the night before. That had been, as Fiona predicted, a nice mess indeed. A veritable comedy of errors, only she hadn't found anything funny about it. That Brian had certainly been the antithesis of jocularity and Fiona was still deciding what to make of him.

He was a beauty; that much was certain. His behaviour was a bit more beast; he'd nearly scared the life out of poor Andrew and Cal. She thought they'd looked all of seven years old, cowering there and babbling under the terror of Brian's shouted, "What the fuck did you do to him?"

Luckily it had only been a case of sunstroke in combination with too much tequila. A whopper of a headache today, to be sure, but not quite a death sentence. You wouldn't have thought it to look at Brian though. Fiona remembered remarking to herself at the time, "if you went by his expression we should be giving the lad the last rites."

She had no clue what would have happened if Gilles had not arrived and spied the scene. He had immediately inquired of his daughter what was going on, but the poor girl had no more idea than the rest of them.

Brian had been oblivious to them for the moment. He was kneeling by the open door to check Justin's pulse, so Fiona had taken it upon herself to give a short explanation. "It would seem that this gentleman is a friend of the young man in the car , and I get the impression he is surprised to see Justin here." She gathered her wits a bit and stepped forward extending her hand. "Fiona Kelly, by the way."

"Gilles Michaud." He moved to meet her and shook the offered hand, lingering just a touch long enough to make Fiona feel a little warm. "Is the young man all right?"

"And wasn't I just about to ask _these _hooligans that." She turned her attention back to a submissive Andy and Cal.

Cal spoke first. "She'll be apples, Fee – honestly."

"Honestly!" Andrew echoed frantically. "We took him to the doctor and everything, and then…"

Fiona saw that Brian had looked up scowling, and appeared about to utter something …terrible. She didn't know what the attractive Gilles had seen from his angle, but the man stepped forward before Brian could say anything.

"Calm down, boys." He'd smiled at them patiently. "Could one of you explain what precisely happened here?'

Cal nudged Andrew, who had then spoken nervously, aware that Brian was standing and glaring at them again. "Cal got us guest passes to that big hotel on the shore outside Beziers. We hung out by the water all day, swam… the bastard kicked my ass racing, actually, and then we sat by the beach bar and had drinks. Met this bloke who was keen on getting into Justin's daks… played a bit of V-ball with him, and had a few pitchers of margaritas. Justin didn't have nearly as much as I've seen him put away, but the next thing you know, he's completely off his face."

"Don't forget the technicolor yawn." Cal cringed.

"Right." Andrew nodded. "Sick as a dog he was, but the hotel doctor totally checked him out; said he'd be fine, but that he'd have to be a little more careful about booze and sun. Some people are just more sensitive and Justin isn't used to it, I guess. Anyway, he mostly just needs to sleep it off."

"Did the doctor give him anything?" Brian interrupted anxiously. "Any drugs?"

"We're to give him some aspirin later and make him drink a load of water." Cal volunteered. "Can't have anything else, anyway… he's got a list of allergies you wouldn't believe…" Then he remembered this guy probably knew that already. "Oh, right… maybe you would." He looked hopefully at his roommate. "Well, then… shall we take him in"

"Righto." Andrew nodded, praying this was their escape.

"No!" Brian let out, before he could think. "I mean…I" He had no idea what he meant. He had no idea what to do. This was just so… just so unexpected. "Where are you going to take him?"

"His place. Just in there – at Maddy's." Andrew gestured to the building a few feet down the street and across it. "It's no problem; I've taken him home plenty of times."

Brian's frown returned and Andrew blanched. "No… not like… I mean… we're just friends."

Cal, meanwhile, stood there, looking for all the world to Fiona, as though he might be thinking, _"I don't know who this guy is exactly, but… thank God I never fucked Justin."_

"Papa… do something." Delphine had looked at Brian's distressed expression and whispered quietly to her father. "Brian is clearly upset."

"Boys… you get the young man to his room, and Brian will be along in a few minutes." Before Brian could protest, the older man turned to him. "Let's speak to Miss. Kelly for a moment, and then perhaps you should go tend to your friend, Brian. What do you think?"

"Right." Brian collected himself slightly, perhaps some small part of his brain reminding him that this man was still a client, as Fiona later found out. "That's… that makes sense, Gilles."

"Good." The man said kindly.

At Gilles' instruction Andy and Cal had carefully removed Justin from the car and got an arm around each of their shoulders, then began to carry him toward the hotel entrance, walking past an astonished Madeline who had stood there for most of the scene, shocked into inactivity. She snapped out of it though – indicated to Fee with a wave that she'd be over later, and went to help the boys with the doors.

Brian then turned to Fiona. "How do you know him?"

"He's been coming to my café for some time." She explained. "We're friends." Brian looked confused, but Fiona refused to elaborate much until she'd spoken to Justin.

"And you… know who I am?"

"I think so." She replied simply.

Delphine cleared her throat none too subtly and asked again. "Brian, are you all right?"

"Fine." He took a breath and seemed to straighten up a bit.

Delphine shot a look of worry towards her further, who had merely nodded reassuringly. "Of course he is." The man said firmly. "Brian - obviously you were not expecting to see your friend…"

"Justin." Delphine reminded him in a whisper.

Gilles smiled at her and continued. "And you certainly were not expecting to see Justin so ill. Sunstroke can be serious, but the young man has been checked out by a doctor, and fortunately it sounds like it is a mild case. I'm sure that after a good night's sleep he will be much better."

"He will, indeed." Fiona spoke up at this point. "Had a bit too much fun - and he'll be paying for it in the morning, but that's all – he'll be more careful next time."

Brian had nodded, but his thoughts seemed very far away. Fiona could not guess at what might be going on in that pretty head. She wasn't sure she wanted to know either, but at some point – she had every intention of finding out.

"I'm sure you're right." Brian had said, noticeably pulling himself together. "I think I should just head over. What room is it?" He turned to Fiona.

"It's room 312." She replied. "But mind you don't go terrorizing those boys – they're good lads and I doubt it was truly their fault." Fiona then turned to Delphine and Gilles. "Why don't you folks come have your dinner, and this one." She gestured to Brian. "… can call you later. I'm sure everything will be sorted by then." Actually she doubted it, but it seemed like the thing to say.

"A wise plan." Gilles agreed. "Brian – do you need anything?"

"No." He shook his head. "That's all right."

"Well, if you think of something, we'll be at Miss Kelly's and after that, back at the house." Gilles said. "Let me know if there's something we can do to be helpful, otherwise just give a ring when you want the car to come for you."

"Thanks." Brian said gratefully. "I'm sorry about this, Gilles… Del."

"Don't be silly." Delphine waved him off. "Of course you must see to your friend. We'll talk tomorrow."

They had begun to go their separate ways, when Gilles said he'd be with the ladies in a moment and followed Brian. The women had no idea what he said, merely watched as the two men spoke for a moment in the doorway of the hotel, before Brian finally nodded and went in.

"Do you know him well, then – this Brian?" Fiona had asked Delphine, as they walked towards the café.

She shook her head. "Not really – but I like him very much. He's… interesting."

"That doesn't surprise me." Fiona had smiled a little.

Delphine had looked at her somewhat curiously and then commented. "You know a lot more about what just happened than we do, don't you." She observed.

"I'm not sure yet." Fiona said honestly. "But neither am I sure we should hash this over until they do it themselves first." She loved gossip, but she knew that prying about Brian from these people meant that she would be asked similar questions about Justin, and she wasn't quite ready to answer them yet – not until she'd spoken to him.

That appeared to make sense to Delphine and she agreed. "I'm sure you're right." Then she added with a small grin. "But I'm dying to know everything – aren't you?"

"I am that." Fiona laughed and patted the girls back. "But for now… let's get you some dinner." Then as Gilles caught up to them she added. "And no more of this Miss Kelly business from either of you. It's Fiona, or I'll not let you in the door."

"We can't have that." Gilles had laughed. "To hear Delphine talk, your establishment is the only thing keeping her fed."

So they had left Brian to his own devices and made their way into the café, each mulling over the events of the last twenty minutes or so, but in silent agreement not to say much until they each spoke to their respective friends.

And they hadn't either; they'd talked of just about everything but, and Fiona had joined them for dinner on the condition that it was on the house. This didn't sit well with the gallant Gilles, of course, and they had compromised by Fiona supplying the wine – of which there was plenty. Gilles seemed not at all disconcerted by the evening's events, but she and Delphine – Fiona now able to remember her name – felt the need for several glasses.

She liked them. And it spoke well for this Brian that he kept company with such pleasant people. She was prepared to think kindly of him until given reason to do otherwise. After all – initially _she _had been quite cross upon seeing Justin's condition and so could hardly fault Brian for the same reaction. He certainly had put the fear of… well… _something, _into those boys. Speaking of which – here was one of her adopted brood now.

"What are you doing here?' She asked, as Andrew came in the door. "Your shift doesn't begin for another hour yet."

"I couldn't stand it." Andrew confessed. "What happened?"

"Nothing, as yet." She responded. "If you're inquiring about Justin's visitor, that is."

"Who _was _that bloke?"

"Well, what did hesay?"

"Not much." Andrew told her. "But he looked daggers, that's for sure – even when I went back with the dinner you had me take him. Are you sure it was safe to leave him with Justin?"

Fiona nodded. "Safe as houses."

"Well, I'm dead curious, I'll tell you." He admitted. "Cal and I were up half the night talking it over."

"Incorrigible – the pair of you." She scolded.

Andrew rolled his eyes at the hypocrisy and continued. "Cal thinks he's an ex-lover."

"Cal is a terrible gossip – as are you." She told him sternly. "We've no doubt blown this entirely out of proportion, that's what. Now go and get yourself a proper breakfast before you start work." She gave him a little shove towards the back. "And when are you going to cut that hair?"

Andrew laughed at her and headed for the kitchen.

Fiona stood looking after him a moment and wondered why she'd said leaving Justin with Brian was safe. She wasn't sure that was exactly the word for it. In fact, she was afraid that, before the events last night had set in motion were over… someone was going to end up hurt. She just wasn't sure who.

_xxxx_

Brian had slept fitfully at best, but wasn't exactly alert when Justin began to show signs of animation. He'd been about to reach for the young man, when Justin suddenly sat up and spoke. Brian didn't know how he'd expected this morning's conversation to go, but he certainly had not been prepared for it to be so one sided – or so… Jesus– Justin sounded like… well, he didn't sound like himself.

He could hear the shower still running and was thankful for the prep time it allowed him. Brian sat up and ran a hand through his undoubtedly unkempt hair. He hated sleeping in his clothes, though it was hardly the first time.

He'd started out sitting on the side of the bed after those kids had left. He had resisted the urge to grill them further and had been what he considered to be quite courteous; even offered a "thanks" when the taller one with the pony tail had delivered some dinner, courtesy of Justin's other "friend". His civility lasted until the kid noticed him absentmindedly tracing Justin's scar. In addition to wearing his hair a little longer, Justin had acquired a light tan, and it made the small scar more pronounced. You had to look for it though.

"Man – that must've hurt."

Brian was startled. "What?"

"When that guy accidentally clocked him… you know, at the ball game." Andrew explained – apparently surprised that Brian didn't know the story. "Said he hasn't played since and can't say as I blame him" Andrew shook his head as he made his way back to the door. "And I thought _Footy _was a rough sport." He shrugged. "Well, Fee says to come round for brekkie when you get up. Are you sure you're ok to stay with him? I could still…"

"It's fine." Brian said tersely. "You can go now."

Andrew had realized he'd been dismissed and promptly exited, closing the door behind him, while Brian simply looked down at Justin wondering why he'd lied. That seemed out of character and Brian wish he knew what else was going on.

Clearly the kid had been here for sometime. Brian had got up to look around the room, noting the abundance of clothes and sketchpads strewn about the place. Well, thank God some things hadn't changed. Which reminded him… obviously the sketch Gilles had purchased was Justin's. Brian allowed himself a small smile of pride at that thought. Apparently Justin's hand control was back to its former abilities, though Brian had been secretly terrified it would never happen.

He had wandered over to the large window and looked out at the garden below. It was… pretty… and calm looking. He would bet Justin sat out there plenty – it was the sort of place he'd go to sketch. Brian sat down on the window seat and picked up the sketchbook next to him. He opened the pad and began to flip through it – aware on some level that this was tantamount to reading someone's journal without permission, but he ignored the thought.

There were pictures of the woman from the café, as well as Justin's two friends. Brian assumed they were just friends, anyway. Hoped, was more like it, but he'd deal with those thoughts later. He continued flipping through various city and countryside sketches, as well as a very intricate one of the garden below, complete with several little fantasy creatures running through it. Brian was further elated at this proof of Justin's recovery being complete. He picked up another book off the floor and began to flip through that too. As he kept going, however, his elation dwindled… there was not one sketch of him – not one. There were a couple of Justin's mother and sister, a few of Gus and even Deb, but not one of him.

Brian had put down the book and leaned against the wall, looking out at the dark garden again, trying to find some hint of the mythical creatures Justin had drawn. He couldn't see any. All he could see were pages of thoughts and dreams that had nothing to do with him anymore.

Justin had always drawn him. Frequently just from memory, but he did prefer a live model if he could get it. No sketchbook had been complete without a least a few pages that Brian had been forced to remain still for. Something he had bitched about with false fanaticism, but had secretly loved. He'd just found it difficult to keep from ravishing the artist, and to follow his instructions to keep still. His focus would end up on those beautiful blue eyes that appraised him as though anew, and adored him in ink. He always found the patience to wait, however, until that adoration was set down for posterity. What didn't occur to him at the time, was that those sketches might one day be the only proof remaining that he'd been so loved.

He had picked at the dinner that was sent over, only doing so because he had a feeling he was going to need his strength when Justin woke up. When he lay back on the window side of the large bed and closed his eyes, Brian had wondered if he were doing the right thing. He didn't know if he was or not; all he knew is that when he saw Justin – his first thought was to just be with him, appearances be damned.

What was that all purpose, good for any occasion, advice again? Go with the flow? Jesus, it might as well be use the fucking force. Although finding out that Darth Vader was his father might explain _a_ _lot. _Brian took a breath and tried to relax. He would sleep here tonight, and tomorrow they would talk, and then… then he'd decide what to do next – see where that flow took him.

He had found himself disoriented for a second upon waking and didn't say or do anything for a moment. Then it all came back to him – he was in bed… with Justin right next to him – right where Brian had been wishing him since he'd left. Only these weren't exactly the circumstances he'd had in mind.

Brian had a brief moment of panic, when Justin had got up, spoken and gone to shower, but he figured: what the hell - he was here now, and he might as well find out what was going on. Not quite the first meeting he'd had planned, but there was nothing he could do about that anymore. He shook thoughts of last night from his head and sat up further against the bedstead; then he heard the water stop. Shit – looked like it was time to talk. He'd think of something though. He always did.

_xxxx_

Justin dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist. The shower had improved matters, but he still felt like shit. It was worse than his usual hangover too; he felt like he'd been hit by a bus. His head was pounding, there was a little left over nausea, and every single one of his muscles felt tight, like someone had wrung them out.

The last thing he felt like doing was eating, but he was due to meet Fee for brunch in just over an hour, and he should probably ask Andy about yesterday, as well as thank the guy for getting him home – again. Why his friend had let him bring the trick back, he had no idea, but that was _not _something to thank him for.

Speaking of which…as he opened the bathroom door and walked out, Justin saw a pair of shoes that were not his own still sitting by the door. He knew the guy spoke English, so what was his fucking damage? Justin really didn't need this crap right now.

He turned, saying, "Listen, I was serious, asshole. Check out time is two in the morning, not two in the aft…." Upon looking at the bed, he stopped talking, and simply stood there… trying to breath. "B...Brian?"

"Morning, Sunshine." As though he said it everyday.

"Brian?" Justin actually closed his eyes for a second and then reopened them, certain this vision would vanish. It didn't; it was still sitting there, leaning against the head of his bed and observing him curiously. "What… what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Nice talk." Brian reproved, mockingly. "Considering this is the second time you've gone on vacation without telling me."

Justin simply stared at him… unable to process this right now. Brian was here. In his room. In fucking _France. _"I thought… there was this guy yesterday and…I just assumed…I…"

"Yeah." Brian nodded. "I got that." He cocked an eyebrow in Justin's direction and smiled a little. "So… you went for the two o'clock curfew after all. Why the change?"

"What's going on?" Justin was half wondering if he were still asleep.

"What's going on is, my dinner across the street last night was interrupted so I could come here and make sure you didn't choke on your own vomit." Brian informed him. "Tequila isn't generally the recommended beverage for staying hydrated on hot days; apparently this is news to you."

Justin tried to remember what had happened. "I … we were playing volleyball and swimming… I was…I remember not feeling too well – thought it was a hunger headache. We had an early dinner and then I… I don't remember anymore..."

"You had sunstroke." Brian said, as though it should be obvious. "You passed out and apparently scared the shit out of your buddies… "

Justin walked towards the kitchenette and reached for the Bodum coffee maker. He needed something to do that didn't involve looking at Brian. "Please tell me I didn't throw up in Cal's car."

Brian was mildly amused, now that the kid was clearly walking around and fine.  
"I believe there was some mention of that, yes, but not in the car."

"Thank God for small favours." Justin ran the water for the kettle. "So, not to be repetitious, but what are you doing in Montpellier?"

"Do I need a reason to drop in on an old friend?" Brian asked, tongue firmly in cheek.

The sarcasm snapped Justin out of his walking coma and the wheels began to turn. "My fucking mother sent you here, didn't she." He stalked over to the stove and turned on the heat. "I can't believe this shit." And for a split second he had actually deluded himself that maybe Brian was here because he wanted to be.

"Believe what shit?" Brian swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, continuing to observe the young man as he began preparations for coffee. "That I'm here with the CEO of Michaud Industries, working on their winter advertising campaign in Paris and staying at his house here for the weekend?"

"I'll guess I'll buy that." Justin was suspicious. "But what are you doing _here? _In my room. And how the fuck did you get in?"

"What?" Brian mocked. "You don't remember? And you were so sure I was great."

"Ok, at this point you're abusing the sarcasm." Justin scowled and put the kettle on.

Part of him was praying that he really was still asleep and this was a terrible nightmare. But it wasn't. Brian was here and he had Justin on the defensive again – in less than five minutes. He walked over to the tiny armoire in the corner and pulled out a fresh pair of jeans. Refusing to allow Brian's presence to make him feel self-conscious, he dropped the towel and quickly stepped into them. Ok – he could do this. He just had to play it cool. "So… how are you, Brian? You look good."

"You look like shit." Brian, making no secret of his observation, took in the thinner face and the tired expression.

"No, I mean it." Justin went on, not really paying attention. "You look good."

"I mean it, too. You look like shit." Brian said again. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I think we just established I'm not feeling my best this morning." Justin snapped. "So how about you cut me a little slack – since you weren't invited in the first place." Wow – this worked well. No wonder Brian was so bloody unpleasant to everyone when he was upset; you could hide a multitude of feelings, disguised as annoyance. He was definitely onto something.

Brian had not expected this. Some defensiveness maybe, a little drama certainly, but not this. Justin seemed very calm… too calm and it baffled Brian. He'd never dealt with this Justin before. "I really was eating across the street. Your friends pulled up, I saw what was going on and… I just stayed to make sure you were all right."

"Of course." Justin gave a bitter laugh. "What else. Because I certainly can't do it by myself."

Brian got a little irritated at that. "Well, not according to what I saw last night, no."

"Whatever." Justin shook his head. "You don't live here and see me everyday – you have no idea."

"Uh… you don't live here either." Brian pointed out. "Or did you forget?"

Justin looked at the man, and realized that he couldn't be around him right now. He had no idea what to do, but he couldn't figure it out with Brian sitting there intellectually dissecting him. "Look… Brian…I know there's a lot of things to say, but I think we both know it really isn't worth saying them, so please just go."

"Let me see if I understand this…" Brian was incredulous. "...you're kicking me out?" He had been desperate for ages to see Justin, and now that he had... not only were they fighting, but _he _was getting the boot. What was this – some alternate universe?

"Call it what you want." Justin shrugged. "I'm simply asking if you would please leave."

"All right." Brian stocked over to the door and slipped into his shoes. "For now." He opened the door and turned back to Justin for a moment. "You don't feel well? Fine – feel better. But then we are going to talk, Sunshine. Like it or not." With that he left, closing the door quietly, but with the air of a slam.

On opposite sides of the door, each was shaking his head and thinking to himself. "Okaaay... that went well."

_xxxx_

**X ~ The Wheel of Fortune**: The wheel of life reveals our connection destiny. Sudden unexpected changes connect this card to the planet Uranus. The wheel is an apt symbol for the forces of destiny and fate, because it shows how everything is connected in a cycle; some might call it the circle of life. Everything happens in cycles; we rise and fall just as a spot on the perimeter of a wheel travels from the highest point, through all the possible points on the wheel, and then back to the apex. However changes will affect you depends on where you are on the wheel. If you are at the top then any change could throw you off, but if you are the bottom then a change could start you back up to the top. It also relates to Laws of Karma, natural consequences of our actions. Finding cycles and recurring motifs in your life. Adapting to change, a shift in fortune.

**In a reading:** The Wheel of Fortune reflects an unexpected course of events. Something is happening or will happen that will be a surprise, something over which a person has no control. The circumstances of this surprise may have nothing to do with what the querent either deserves or has worked to achieve. Life is giving a gift. The querent must make the choice to accept what is offered even if he does not understand its meaning in light of the other events in his life. It is a gift that goes beyond reason and logic. It is a Gift of the Spirit, and change is inevitable. You've reached a turning point in your life. The hub of the wheel relates to stability, but the outer rim portends change. Take your cues from unexpected events and synchronicities; the fates are trying to coax you in a new direction. Although you are free to resist, you profit by going with the flow – whatever it is.


	13. Justice

Brian walked out of the hotel into the morning sunlight and felt it had no right to be so goddamn pleasant out. Where was pathetic fallacy when you needed it? According to him… it should be cloudy and drizzling.

What the hell had just happened? Christ - he finally finds the kid… and then gets kicked out of his room? Unbelievable! Well, at least Justin was up and walking around; Brian nearly had a heart attack when he saw him unconscious last night. He had tried for over a year now to put the memory of Justin's prom and it's tragic aftermath behind him, but the truth was it was never far from his thoughts. Not ever. He was all too aware how easily he could have lost him – right after he'd finally figured out that to do so would break his heart. Pure poetic irony hadn't seemed so amusing then.

He shook his head and realized he needed to get back to the house and grab a shower. But before he did – Brian was going to see if he couldn't get a few answers from someone else, since the conversation with Justin had served only to confuse him further. If that even _qualified _as a conversation.

Brian crossed the street and observed the door he'd barely noticed last night. Casa Fiona; it looked like they were open for breakfast – let's see if that's all that was on the menu. Hopefully they were serving a little information too, because he wasn't in the mood for food just yet. He readied his excuse and walked in, spotting the proprietress immediately.

Fiona had been keeping half an eye on the door all morning, and so Brian's arrival immediately gained her attention. She stood from her seat at the bar, and waved him over. As he approached, she asked. "Well… and is he back to himself?"

"Oh…he's in fine form." Brian assured her sarcastically. He wouldn't call Justin anything approaching himself, but he doubted this woman would know that. "I'm sure you'll see him later."

"He's due for brunch in an hour." Fiona took a sip of her tea. "Are you not staying?"

"I don't think so." Brian gave a rueful laugh. "I thought I'd call for a ride from here… if that's all right?"

Fiona leaned over the bar and pulled up a phone for his use. "Be my guest."

Brian picked up the receiver and dialed the number on the back of the card he'd taken from his pocket. The housekeeper picked up on the second ring. "Résidence de Michaud. Bonjour."

"Bonjour Lisette. C'est Brian Kinney."

"Ah – bonjour, Monsieur Kinney. Monsieur Michaud – he tells me you will call." She said. "Shall I send the car?"

"Yes." Brian replied. "I'm at Casa Fiona."

"Of course, Monsieur. The car should be there within fifteen minutes, is that all right?"

"That's fine." Brian assured her. "Thank you."

"We will see you shortly then, Monsieur"

Brian hung up the phone and turned to find that Fiona had placed a mug in front of him. "Fifteen minutes certainly gives you enough time for something cup of something hot." She commented. "On the house, of course. Now then, what will you have – tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please." Brian responded. Maybe a little caffeine would aid his thinking and help him make sense of this morning.

After she poured him some and returned the pot to the warming burner, she sat back down beside him. Brian accepted the beverage with gratitude and began to pour a ton of sugar in it. He often drank it black, but some days needed a little sweetening, and this was shaping up to be one of them.

"And do we start the inquisition now?" Fiona began with a smile.

Brian looked at her, surprise evident in his expression. Clearly he had not expected such candor.

"It's what I'd do in your place." She offered.

"Is it." Brian gave a bemused smile. "And what would you ask… if you were me, of course."

"Well, I suppose I'd start with – how is he doing?"

"Sounds reasonable." Brian nodded. "So?"

"I'm sure I haven't anything like the whole picture… " She demurred.

"But?" He prompted impatiently.

"But I don't think he's at his best, these days." She said plainly. "Beyond that… I'm not inclined to give away much until I see him."

"Fair enough." Brian agreed and then asked. "How well do you know him?"

"Well enough, I should think." Fiona replied. "Considering we met just the second week of July – and he isn't an easy lad to know."

"You see him a lot."

"I do." Fiona agreed. "And despite the short acquaintance, I'm that fond of him, so…" She seemed to be debating whether or not to continue. "… you mustn't mess him about."

Brian's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What makes you think I'd do that?"

"Given the little I _do _know, that might also be what I'd be up to, in your place."

Brian only stared at her, his expression still professing puzzlement.

"I'm not defending him, mind." She felt it necessary to make clear. "By his own admission, he deserves anything you'd care to throw at him."

"I didn't come here to throwanything." Brian protested. "I'm here on business with Gilles Michaud."

"Ah yes…" She nodded. "I had a lovely dinner with the Michaud's, and they speak well of you… if a bit sparingly."

Brian didn't feel there was anything they knew and had to hide on his account, but he found himself gratified by the loyalty just the same. "There's nothing much to say."

"That, luv… is never true of a man who looks like you." She smiled knowingly. "However, it's a moot point at the moment."

"Isthere a point at the moment?" Brian asked. He was fairly amused by this woman and her forthright demeanor.

"For now, just this." She said seriously. "If you've a mind to punish him, don't bother… I think he's beat you to it."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Brian said defensively, "I would never hurt Justin." But he knew that was a lie. He was all too aware that not only would he, but he had. Repeatedly.

"Not on purpose, perhaps." She allowed. "Likely you're a decent sort, but then … I hardly know you." She took a sip of tea, gathered her thoughts and continued. "What I doknow, is that the veritable wraith I set eyes on almost a month ago, has improved after a fashion. And I'd hate to see the little bit of good that's been done… undone."

Brian gave his attention to his coffee again and took in her statement. "If you're so worried about him, maybe you could fatten him up a bit – he's too thin."

"That'll happen when you eat like a bird and run miles and miles o' nights." She shook her head, oblivious to Brian's confused look at the comment.

Since when did Justin not eat everything in sight? Brian's grocery bills had more than tripled when they lived together and that wasn't counting take out. As for running – that was a new one. Justin had never been given to working out and his regular metabolism seemed to keep him as trim as Brian would have him. He tuned in to the woman across from him again, despite being fairly certain he'd not get much more out of her.

"I think I've done rather well, actually." She continued. "Considering that when I first made his acquaintance, the breath was only just in and out of him and the grass didn't know of him walking over it."

Brian laughed at the expression. "Are you always this fucking… Irish?"

"A fine attitude." Fiona was not easily offended. "Coming from a man with your moniker; Brian is an Irish name to be proud of."

He shrugged. "Whatever."

"Whatever..." She mimicked. "Have you not heard of Brian Boru?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Last great King of Ireland… I've heard."

"What was your family name again?" She inquired, trying to recall what he'd said on the phone. "Kinney, was it?"

"That's right." He nodded. "And before you get started I know all about the history of my surname." He took another sip from his mug and regarded her over the rim. "How did this inquisition get turned around, anyway?"

"We're masters of misdirection, we Irish." Fiona smiled. "Did you not know that?"

Brian gave a slight smirk. "I hadn't realized."

"Then you'd do well to learn a little more about where you come from."

"Sadly, I come from Pittsburgh." Brian asserted somewhat impatiently. "And if I did come from Ireland, I suspect my accent would be more Liam Neeson… and less Lucky Charms. No offense."

"None taken." Fiona regarded him quietly for a moment. "And you've certainly a point… I could, without a doubt, speak after a less… _Irish _fashion. However, my grandmother, God rest her, a small town woman all her life, spoke much the same. She was always so soothing to listen to; it made me think she could fix anything. I grew up loving the sound of her voice … and I see no harm in modeling mine after it."

Brian shrugged agreeably. "To each his own."

"Besides." Fiona continued, as she watched him out the corner of her eye. "There are some of us who derive considerable comfort from our personas. I'll confess to frequently finding solace in mine."

Brian looked at her sharply, but observed only a woman calmly enjoying her tea. "I can see where that might be… comfortable." He allowed.

She didn't even look over, merely sat holding her mug. "I thought you might."

They remained in companionable silence until Andrew walked behind the bar for some coffees, and to get Fiona's attention. "Josette says we don't have enough croissants and she has no time to make anymore this morning. You want me to dash 'round the corner for some, Fee?"

"And deprive poor Monsieur Desmond of the chance to flirt with me?" She put down her cup and stood. "He'd consider you a poor substitute and we won't get the discount. I'll go; you have customers."

Andrew nodded and returned to his task of filling coffee cups. He wasn't keen to head over to the patisserie anyway. Monsieur Desmond's daughter waited on customers as well, and she too was a bit friendly for Andrew's taste. He might not object so if the poor girl didn't bear such a striking resemblance to Quasimodo.

"Thank God he's open Sunday's." Fiona turned back to Brian. "I'm sorry to desert you, but I suspect your car will be here shortly."

"No problem." Brian replied. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Not at all." She waved off his thanks. "I should probably have offered you something stronger, but it did seem a bit early – even for me."

"What – even for _Irish _coffee?" Brian smirked.

"Will you be back for a proper meal next time?" She ignored his sarcasm, both of them knowing what she was really asking.

"I'm not sure." It depended on a lot. "I'd like to." He uttered this with a slightly wistful expression that was gone as quickly as it came, but Fiona didn't miss it. Interesting – well now she suspected which way thatwind blew. She smiled goodbye at him and went off to purchase more pastry.

Brian picked up the mug, preparing to drain it and leave, but before he could, the pony-tailed kid addressed him.

"So he's all right then?"

"What?" Brian had been distracted. "Oh… yeah, pretty much."

"I figured he must be," Andrew nodded. " …seeing as how Fee wasn't frothing at the mouth or anything."

Brian smiled into his drink. "Is that a common occurrence?"

"Too right." Andrew was emphatic in his enthusiasm - relieved to speak with Brian in a non-terrifying manner. "You can't usually talk to her 'til arvo." He shuddered at the thought of doing so earlier. "Nearly died when I heard what time she got in today. Special circumstance I reckon, but normally she isn't in until eleven, earliest. Actually…"

Brian looked away from the kid, not telling him to _shut up_, but not especially listening or interested until "… so she and Justin always joke that it's why they're friends… what with the strange hours they keep. He doesn't make a show much earlier than her."

That got Brian's attention. He gave a non-committal, "I see." And directed a lop sided smile at the kid; charming, no matter what your sexual orientation.

Andrew returned the grin. "Nuttier than fruitcakes the pair of them, but their blood's worth bottling. You just don't want to know them before noon, is all."

Brian found himself wondering if Justin had any friends here that spoke plain English – or French for that matter, and hoping the bloodthirsty reference was meant as some kind of compliment. "He's never been a morning person." Was all he said.

"I'm not shocked." Andrew nodded. "I figured it was a long time habit. Though I prefer Fee's early morning activity to Justin's – at least hers isn't likely to give you blisters." He laughed at what he assumed was a shared joke and picked up the tray of coffees. "He's unlikely to be at it tonight though."

"What makes you say that?" What the fuck was this kid talking about? What was Justin up to at all, tonight or otherwise.

Andrew continued inadvertently divulging information that he assumed the other man either already had, or would normally be privy to. After all, Justin had never mentioned a Brian to him. "Doesn't seem to feel like it when we've been in our cups all night. If he's really better today, we're meant to be off to Martin's Bar tonight with Cal. Too bad it's not dyke night, but there's still a decent number of sheilas there. Always a chance one of them will come to her senses and give a bloke a chance, right?"

"If anyone could give a girl second thoughts about fucking men." Brian smirked. "I'm sure it'd be you."

"Cheers, mate." The kid was still smiling as he headed towards the kitchen, clearly not getting the dig.

Brian got up and made his way out to the street to await the car, which would no doubt pull up any minute. He shook his head, clearer now with a little caffeine in his system. Jesus, Justin had acquired some …_interesting _friends.

_xxxx_

"There you are!" Delphine let out as soon as he walked into the kitchen. "Is everything all right? I stayed over last night and we wondered when you'd be back. Did he come with you? What happened?"

Brian was taking a moment to figure out what to address first when Gilles spoke up. "My dear, the poor man probably had little or no sleep… don't pounce so."

"I'm fine." Brian said. "But yeah… I'm a little tired."

"Sorry." Delphine grinned. "Everything's okay though?"

Brian gave a slight shrug. "Other than being kind of… grouchy, he seems like he's recovered." From yesterday at least, he thought to himself.

Gilles folded up his paper and observed Brian. "Excellent… I'm glad he's feeling better. And you Brian?"

Brian debated an answer and while he didn't cover up, he didn't elaborate either. "I've been better." He gave a weak attempt at a grin. "I'm really sorry to ditch you guys last night – I just…"

"You did exactly as you should have done." Gilles tone was final. "What kind of person would leave a sick friend to fend for themselves? Not anyone I want to know."

Brian smiled gratefully. "Thanks. I really didn't feel I could leave him, but it's all right now. Well – now that I finally took a desperately needed a shower."

"Ewww" Delphine held her nose and made a face. "Then I'm glad I didn't come hug you hello when we heard you arrive."

"Delphine, really!" Her father scolded. "Honestly Brian, I thought she was a grown up." But Gilles smiled indulgently.

"Don't worry... I'm sure she's got nothing on me." Brian advised him. "Del and I battling it out for immaturity champion might get ugly. But, I think I'll concede the title to her this morning, pleading exhaustion as an excuse."

"Pussy." Delphine stuck out her tongue.

"All right, this time I really am shocked. "Gilles protested. "Away to your own home, you wretched girl. Only men are invited for breakfast this morning."

Brian was trying to decide whether she was really in trouble and if his laughter was making the situation worse. Not that he could stop.

Delphine didn't seem worried however. "Je t'aime papa." She said teasingly. "Je t'appelle plus tard."

"And you…" She turned to Brian. "I expect to hear from you again…you owe me gossip."

"We'll see." Brian grinned.

She pouted a moment. "You at least have to tell me how the new product name works out. I ought to get something for being there when you thought of it."

"Absolutely." Brian agreed. "I owe you at least a lunch."

"A bientot" Delphine called over her shoulder and was gone in a whirl.

"So…" Gilles turned back to Brian. "It sounds as though you had a breakthrough."

Brian nodded and tried not to smile too broadly. He'd forgotten that there were a few bright spots out there. "I think I'm on to something, Gilles. " He said excitedly. "Del wasn't kidding about her help. She mentioned something about the history of an ancient aqueduct near here and it sort of got the ball rolling. In fact, I want to get some thoughts on paper this morning."

"She actually mentioned it last night, Brian; that's wonderful." Gilles praised as he took down a skillet from the hanging rack. "But no work before breakfast, surely. Lisette is off today, so I was serious about men only. You'll have to take your chances with my cooking, but I assure you – I'm really rather good."

"I trust you." Brian said as he sat at one of the stools next to the kitchen's island. "I can run some ideas by you while we eat, and get your thoughts as well."

"I'd like nothing more." Gilles turned around to put some mushrooms and a knife in front of Brian. "We're having omelets; you can talk and chop, I hope." He smiled and said. "I'm starving, so in the interest of eating sooner, I'm promoting you to assistant-chef."

_xxxx_

"Well look who's ten minutes early for a change." Fiona said as Justin came in and sat next to her, unknowingly occupying the seat recently vacated by Brian. "You look as though you might live."

"Looks can be deceiving." Justin assured her. "I feel like shit."

"A decent breakfast and a good chat will help set you to rights." Fiona promised. "And I just fetched back some fresh croissants from Monsieur Desmond."

"I might be able to keep a couple of those in my stomach." Justin nodded. "With a little jam."

"Good." Fiona approved, as she passed a basket-full to him. "And if those stay put, we'll see what else you can worry down. Now, here's your juice… where's my story?"

"Story?" Justin pretended confusion and didn't meet her eyes.

"Don't even bother." She shook her head. "I can't tell you how unlikely it is that I intend to let this go. Start talking."

"There's nothing to tell, Fee." Justin shrugged. "Other than saying I was shocked to wake up with Brian in my room – thanks a lot, by the way."

"And what was I to do about it?" She inquired indignantly. "As if he gave a body a choice."

"Yeah, I know." Justin agreed. "Brian's got a way of… taking control of a situation."

"He's got a tongue that would clip a hedge is what he's got." She asserted.

Justin laughed a little – he couldn't help it. And for a second he flashed on what else Brian's tongue was good for, but quickly banished the thought. "Was he really just in for dinner?" He asked.

"He was." She confirmed. "Here with some friends who are clients as well, apparently. Nice folks; the gentleman was a bit of a dish."

"Fee…" Justin inserted. "Could you focus for a sec… please."

"Right." She smiled. "Any road… Andrew comes in to confess what's happened, and doesn't your Brian come racing out after us. Desperate worried, he was, too."

Justin didn't acknowledge the statement, but merely inquired. "Did he mention anything about my mother sending him?"

"Not a word." Fiona was confused. "How could that be – you've not told her where you are, as far as I know."

"True." Justin agreed. "But I suppose I could have been careless in an email, or maybe she could tell where I was somehow from when I called… I don't know."

"I think sunstroke's made you a bit paranoid, lad." Fiona told him. "That's all very unlikely and given the little you havetold me, I can't imagine your Brian agreeing to help her."

Justin sighed. "Fiona – how many times have I asked you not to call…"

"..him your Brian. I know." Fiona rolled her eyes. "You're too sensitive by far when you're hung over."

"Hey – I was really sick, I'll have you know." Justin whined a little. "What about making with some sympathy."

Fiona ignored him and asked. "So what happened this morning?"

Justin hesitated. "I asked him to leave."

"Whatever for?"

"I just couldn't deal, Fee. I feel like shit, he surprised the hell out of me, and I just had to get him out of there."

"Fair enough." She conceded. "When are you going to talk to him again?"

Justin took a bite of his croissant and then answered. "I'm not, I hope."

"Phfff." She was skeptical. "Good luck to you, I say. I've the impression that if that man wants to see you – see you he will. He strikes me as a crafty sort."

"Crafty?" Justin's eyebrows met in confusion.

"You know, plotting and planning, like." Fiona explained. "The type who if he's not fishing, he's mending his nets."

"I don't think Brian has fished a day in his life." Justin was deliberately obtuse

"Oi, are all the youth these days as daft as you?" Fiona was incredulous. "It's a _metaphor_ you ignorant lamb… do they not teach you any…" She stopped when she saw that Justin was laughing. "Oh, very nice… having me on, were you."

Justin settled down to a few final snickers here and there. "You're just so fun when you're full of righteous indignation, Fee. I can't help it."

"You're a card, you are." She wagged her finger at him. "And don't think I forget what we were really talking about. This isn't going to be as easy as you want to believe. I can feel it."

"Oh I don't know." Justin frowned suddenly. "I pissed him off pretty good I think. He feels he needs to get the last word in or something, but he'll cool off and figure out it isn't worth it."

"And you think that's all he wants. The last word."

"Positive." Justin said, remembering the ever-present sarcasm.

_xxxx_

"I think it's brilliant, Brian." Gilles was impressed. "Keep it simple, and yet meaningful… perfect."

"I'm glad you like it." Brian was pleased too. To calm himself down the night before and try to get a couple hours sleep at least, he'd realized it was necessary to get his mind off of Justin. He had figured he'd have to deal with that situation soon enough, so he'd put the time to good use by fleshing out the ideas from his talk with Del. Not easy with the blonde asleep next to him, but he'd managed. It was all starting to fall into place, but he'd have to get a look at the thing and do some research on it.

"I more than like it …I think it's going to work."

"It _is_ going to work." Brian was confident. "Americans may claim to hate the French, largely because they have a bit of an inferiority complex – sophistication wise at least; but the way they prove they're just as good as you is by buying your products."

"That's very cynical, Brian." Gilles didn't sound judgmental, merely amused.

"It might be very cynical." Brian allowed. "It's also very true."

When Gilles didn't disagree, Brian continued. "Obviously, I haven't seen the structure, but Delphine seems to think it would lend itself to what I have in mind."

"She's right." Gilles agreed.

"The first thing for me to do is check it out and research the history of it." Brian was thinking out loud again. "We'll have to inquire if there are any legal impediments to using the image – I'm not familiar with French law, I'm afraid."

"Not your concern." Gilles waived it off. "I suspect there is no problem using it in the way we intend to – after all – you're not taking its name, merely the image. In any case, I'll have my lawyers research it immediately and find a way to make it happen. I'll have the name looked into as well and we'll see what we can copyright."

"Great." Brian smiled. He loved working with someone so decisive. "Next I think we'll need to get some preliminary sketches of it, from different angles… etcetera, so that we can get some idea of what image we'd like to present."

"I agree." Gilles nodded. "We might consider having the artist who did my picture try, you know. I really like the feel they have for that kind of architecture."

Brian blanched slightly. "I don't know if that's such a great idea, Gilles."

"Why not?" The man was clearly puzzled. "It's just the sort of look we want, and I believe he is one of Ms. Kelly's waiters, so we know he's available. It might be a real opportunity for a young artist and it might be nice to support…"

"It's not one of the waiters." Brian interrupted. "It's Justin."

Gilles stopped. "As in _your _Justin?"

"Well, no I…." Brian hesitated and then sighed. "Yes …as in my Justin."

"I see." The older man tilted his head and was obviously pondering the situation. "Are you of the impression he wouldn't agree to do it?"

"I'm not sure." Brian admitted. "He was… less than thrilled to see me."

Gilles looked directly at him. "Brian, I meant what I said last night. I like you, and I have no trouble separating work and friendship. I don't pretend to know a thing about your relationship to the young man, but if you want to talk about anything, I am more than happy to listen and offer what I can in the way of advice... such as it might be."

"I appreciate that, Gilles." And Brian really did. He had no idea how it had occurred, but he found himself with affection for Gilles and, stranger still, a healthy amount of trust. The man's calming words last night had actually helped and Brian was grateful for the utter lack of judgment from him, never mind his kind words of support. "He's… I don't even know what to call him." Brian sighed again in frustration. "I'm not used to having to think about this kind of thing, to be honest, but for simplicities sake I guess we'll call him my ex-boyfriend."

"I surmised as much." Gilles said gently, and then commented with a small laugh. "Labels are very inadequate in trying to describe some people, aren't they."

Brian smiled gratefully. "You can say that again." He saw nothing but understanding and good humor in the man's face, but he was so used to censure that he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. People just weren't this understanding in his experience. "You aren't a little shocked? I mean …it had to be obvious that he's quite young."

Gilles shrugged. "How old _is_ he?"

Brian dropped his bomb. "Nineteen."

It appeared it was a dud, however, because there was no explosion and the other man's expression changed not one iota. "That's not so young." He smiled. "He'll be 24 in five years."

Brian let go of most of his tension along with a long and much needed laugh. "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose." He slowed to a chuckle, but then sobered and looked away for a moment. "But we aren't together anymore, so it doesn't matter."

Gilles wasn't so sure. "I completely understand if it would be too uncomfortable for you to work with him, Brian. It's unfortunate, but I'm sure we can easily…"

"No." Brian interrupted for the second time, noting to himself he really must be comfortable, if he kept doing it to a client. "I'll work on it. It can't hurt to talk to him about it." _He hoped._

"If you're sure." Was all Gilles said, although inwardly he was hoping Brian would do just that. It would appear he had unfinished business of another sort with the young man and Gilles would like to help him conclude it if he could, one way or another. "I have a suggestion." He continued. "I think you should stay here for the week and scout out the site. Regardless of whether your friend agrees, most of the work that needs to be done can be done more easily from Montpellier. We'll meet here … say next Friday, and see where we are in the planning."

"I think you're right." Brian said, unsure if staying was to be a good or bad thing, but agreeing that it made sense. "I'll talk to Justin and we'll see. Failing that, I'll set about looking into local design firms."

"I do hope we can avoid that. They tend to want to overdo everything, and often add far too much. I think you are really onto something with the simplicity of approach."

"I know… it would save time if Justin did it, but we'll come up with something either way." Brian assured him. "If we get cracking, we're good for the winter campaign after all."

"Didn't I tell you Brian." Gilles was triumphant. "You just need to relax and let things come – it's always the best way."

Brian merely smiled in response and Gilles continued.

"You'll stay here, of course." He began the practicalities. "And use my office, naturally… we'll have to arrange for some of your things to be shipped here for the week. I'll call my assistant, if you like." Gilles offered. "I'm sure he'll be happy to go over to your hotel and pack whatever you direct, and then have it sent down for tomorrow morning."

"Actually, no." Brian decided. "There is someone on staff at the hotel that will probably be willing to arrange it for me and they'll be in later today." He decided that Paul had already seen him wasted and ridiculous; packing his stuff for him shouldn't be a big deal. Besides, he couldn't say why if asked, but he trusted the guy to be cool about it. It was weird - he knew he'd decided to be more open while away, but the utter lack of assholes he'd had to deal with had drastically reduced lately. If it weren't for the whole Justin thing, he'd almost feel secure enough to relax for once and stop waiting for the next thing to go wrong.

He had just ensured, however, that he _did _have to deal with Justin… whether he wanted to or not. But he wanted to. So the home base for _Operation Romance_ had shifted. So be it. Montpellier was the Paris of the South – it might also be a backdrop he could use to his advantage. The last twelve hours of revelations had added some interesting new elements to this game, but he'd come up with something. Brian always planned well under pressure.

He looked back at Gilles who was just finishing loading the dishwasher. "My office has everything you should need, Brian. Delphine keeps me well supplied with the latest gadgets too, so you'll find much in the way of games in the connecting den. If you can figure out which remote is for what, I'll be impressed. At last count I think there were eight - at least one of which operates the DVD player. There's a wall of movies, if you're so inclined."

Gilles was obviously intent on making him feel at home here in his absence, and Brian found himself sorry that the man would not be there for the next few days. He was realizing that he'd actually started thinking of a straight guy…one almost his mother's age… as a friend. It was true though, because he found himself compelled to tease the man.

"That's great." He said sincerely, then added slyly. "Actually, I haven't seen Bull Durham for years - do you have it by any chance? Del tells me you're a big Susan Sarandon fan."

Gilles made a face and gestured emphatically. "Merde!" He began to laugh. "I knew she could not keep quiet."

"If it's any consolation, Gilles, were I straight - I'm sure I'd be applauding your good taste."

Gilles continued to laugh. "Daughters are an evil bunch, my friend."

Brian grinned back at him and shook his head. "Thank God I have a son… I don't think I'd know how to relate to a daughter."

"I wasn't aware you had a child, Brian." Gilles had settled down and was intrigued. "How old is he?"

Brian had let that information slip without meaning to, but he wasn't necessarily sorry …and he was never anything but proud of Gus. "He's almost 2. I donated a little DNA for a friend."

"And do you get to see him frequently?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure I could more than I do." Brian thought about it. "I don't know why that never occurred to me before."

"Perhaps you should just be grateful it's occurred to you now." Gilles suggested mildly. "Do you have a picture of him?"

"Remind me later and I'll show you the ones on my laptop." Brian didn't think he'd ever showed someone from his work life a photo of Gus before. Well, except for Cynthia, but Cynthia was different. "You probably still have a picture of Del in your wallet." Brian teased again.

"Actually that's more of a North-American custom." Gilles informed him. "I do, however, have a small pendant that opens and has her picture, as well as one of my late wife."

Brian was surprised to find that rather sweet. That wasn't usually his first reaction to things that smacked of sappy, but in this instance it was nice. "You seem to have a good relationship with Del." He ventured. "I'm surprised you didn't have more children."

"We would have liked to..." Gilles shrugged. "…but there wasn't time. Veronique was already forty-three when Delphine was born. "

Brian suddenly understood Gilles lack of shock over Justin's age. He'd read somewhere that he'd been twenty-seven when his child had been born which meant…

"As you may imagine, my wife was some years older than me."

Fourteen by Brian's quick calculation. "I didn't realize that." He admitted, then found himself asking. "Was it ever a problem?"

"Of course!" The man laughed. "All the time. We met when I was twenty-two and a very ambitious young man, to my mind. She was quite content to stay home, while I was still keen to be out most nights. And of course, there was the fact that most of my hormones screamed that they'd like to be out and up to no good, while of course she'd gotten all that nonsense out of her system. Or she just wasn't like that – I was never sure. Let's not even get started on the difference in musical tastes. That alone should have ruined us for good."

Brian suddenly laughed.

"What is it?" Gilles inquired.

"I just realized that you described some of the problems in my relationship, only I was the immature party."

"Shall we call Delphine back for the competition?" Gilles asked. "You might stand a chance after all."

Brian shook his head. "I'll pass for now."

"I still think she'd win." Gilles assured him. "I doubt you were immature, so much as not in the same place. It's never so simple as one person's fault over another, I've found."

"But you obviously stayed together for twenty years." Brian returned to Gilles' marriage.

"Absolutely." Gilles stated emphatically. "The woman drove me crazy; I couldn't possibly have done without her."

Brian found that he kind of got that, and then realized the topic he'd brought up and it's possible impropriety. "I'm sorry if I was…"

"Don't be sorry." Gilles told him. "I love to talk about her and I'm convinced she still comes by to give me advice. She just waits until I'm asleep to do it – it's easier to hear her then."

Brian smiled. This guy was a little nutty – there was no getting around that, but he really liked him. God – he'd made friends with someone over fifty. Still a little mindful of his reputation back home, he realized this information wasn't something that would aid its cause. And Christ, imagine if Ted got hold of that information. Oh well… fuck it. Maybe he'd get Gilles to ask his wife about some help for him. If he was going to deal with the Justin he'd met this morning, he was going to need a little otherworldly assistance.

_xxxx_

They'd been holding up the bar for the better part of an hour and Justin still hadn't found anyone interesting. Usually he'd been to the back alley at least once by now. He told himself he was still feeling kind of miserable from the day before and, although true, it wasn't the real reason. How the hell was he supposed to pick some guy to get him off, when the only one he could think about was Brian Kinney. Okay – so he usually thought about Brian, but that was in the abstract, or some memory. An ancient memory, not the recent one of Brian propped up in Justin's bed this morning looking all too at home.

He couldn't explain it entirely, but he had been angry. He knew that he was the one who had committed the wrongs, the official wrongs in their so-called relationship, but he still felt resentful. And when he'd been forced to deal with Brian, resentment had morphed into rage pretty quickly.

He resolved to shake it off though. Brian was probably on his way back to Paris and, more importantly, away from him. It had shaken Justin up, but he was smarter now and he knew the best thing to do was pretend it never happened, so he could get back to what had become his normal life.

He despaired of finding the trick to do that however, until he spied a dark head facing away from him. He moved his gaze down to the trim waist and firm ass; even at a distance he got the sense this guy was hot. Might even take his mind off of…

"…Brian."

"What?" Justin turned to Cal.

"I said I think that's your friend Brian." Cal repeated and gestured to the brunette that had just turned around.

"Shit." Justin exclaimed. "How did he know I was here?"

"Maybe Fee or Andy mentioned." Cal offered, gesturing to his roommate, who was chatting up a table of lesbians… unsuccessfully. "Not like it'd be hard to guess, ya bastard. There's no more than a handful of gay bars in town, so… sooner or later, everyone looking to get their dick sucked is gonna turn up here."

Justin nodded, realizing that this was true. He had just assumed that Brian would be heading back to the city. Well, maybe he was leaving in the morning. For the moment however, he was clearly headed over toward the bar... and them.

"He's not going to yell at me again, is he?" His friend whispered anxiously.

"Huh?" Justin wondered, but Cal had no time to explain.

Brian stopped in front of them, and asked mockingly. "Feeling better, are we?"

"More or less" Justin managed, trying to figure out where this might be going.

"Well enough for me to buy you a drink?"

Justin held up his full glass meaningfully, by way of reply. He could buy his own drinks, thank you very much.

Brian nodded. "Ah.. so that's the attraction – a country where you're actually legal."

Justin made a sarcastic "oh, you're too funny" face, but Cal laughed. The traitor.

"Well, maybe I can get the next round then." Brian was unperturbed.

Justin, on the other hand, was the epitome of perturbed. What the fuck was going on here? It was bad enough that Brian was here at all, but to have tracked him to all his safe spots inside of twenty-four hours? It wasn't fair. He'd set himself up a nice little routine here that had been working just fine. Well, most of the time. Okay… not entirely true, but it was better than the alternatives at least.

Brian was standing quite close and it made Justin anxious… and then annoyed, but he resolved not to show it. "Actually, I was just going to head out."

Cal was a little slow. "But I thought we were going to play some…ow!" He grabbed his shin. "Hey – not the game I had in mind, mate."

"Oh, sorry." Justin apologized, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "I didn't see your leg there."

Brian was observing him, tongue in cheek, and suddenly Justin found he didn't give a shit whether his lie was obvious. He drained his glass, put it down, and turned towards the door. "Make Andy leave the lesbians alone." He said over his shoulder. "And tell him I'll see him tomorrow." He half waved at a confused Cal and walked towards the exit.

As he passed through it he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Suddenly he was very _very _tired and all he wanted was to go home, and go to bed. Tomorrow had to be better than this.

He heard the door open again behind him and knew that today wasn't finished with him yet. He sped his pace in the direction of Madeline's and prayed he was wrong.

"Justin, would you fucking wait a minute?"

"No." Shit – he knew it was going to be Brian. "Go get a beer, or a blow job or something. I'm tired and I'm going home.

"Jesus." Brian rolled his eyes and reluctantly jogged to catch up. _Home_? What the fuck was that? Some would say it was just an expression, but Brian was starting to get Jennifer Taylor's paranoia. He fell into step beside Justin and was amazed to find his longer legs struggling to keep up.

The blond glanced beside him and sighed in annoyance. "What happened to _don't ever go after anyone_?"

"You're not just anyone." It wasn't said any special way, but it made Justin stop.

"What do you want, Brian?"

He struggled with the seldom used words. "We need to talk."

"Actually, I really don't." Justin snapped and began to walk again.

Brian shook his head and caught up again. "Well, unfortunately this isn't just about you."

"You mean it's about you?" Justin's sarcasm was evident. "Shocker."

Brian grabbed his arm and brought them both to a stop. "Hey." He scowled a little. "As far as I know I haven't done anything shitty recently, so maybe you could take the attitude down a notch."

It wasn't phrased as a request and Justin was pissed, but he also knew he'd been kind of unreasonable. He pulled his arm loose. "Look, Brian… I'm sorry about this morning, okay? You had all night to get used to it, though - and I'm still kind of dealing here. Plus I still feel like shit, if you want to know… so forgive me if I don't volunteer for your brand of vitriol. But you're right, you haven't done anything and I'm the asshole. So just fucking give me your rant and get it over with, all right? I'd like to get to bed at a decent hour."

Brian took an unconscious step back. This was _so_ not going well. "Are you done?"

Justin crossed his arms and let out a huff. Brian took this for a _yes_ and continued. "I'm not here to pick a fight, or anything like that, all right? I had no idea you were here, and even if I had, it's hardly my style to just waltz in and … what was it? Rant? Rant… I think that was it." He was sarcastic to buy himself time. He decided the only way the kid was going to really talk to him was if he had incentive, and fortunately Brian was in a position to supply that – he hoped. "Look – can we just go somewhere and get a drink for Christ's sake? It's your town, and technically that makes you the host …the least you can do is buy me a beer."

Justin contemplated Brian's face as well as he could in the dim light, and was satisfied that there was no animosity in it at least.. "I'll spring for _coffee._" Justin said after a moment. "I wasn't kidding about being tired, so let's go to Fiona's; then I can just go home after." There was no way he was going somewhere that wasn't his turf and besides… it would save having to repeat everything to Fiona tomorrow.

"Okay." Brian agreed, all the while thinking…_home_ – there's that word again. "Actually that's an appropriate place for what I want to talk about." He decided the best approach was to go straight to the business. Justin was already defensive as hell, and Brian guessed he really couldn't blame him, but it did make it difficult to get out of him what was going on.

Justin continued his brisk pace for six more blocks and Brian matched it. They said nothing the entire way and although it took five minutes to get there, each was surprised to look up and discover that they'd arrived… and that the inevitable would no longer be delayed.

"Look what the cat dragged in." Fiona let out as soon as they walked in the door. She quieted when she got a slight shake of the head from Justin. Clearly this was not a friendly meeting. "Have you boys had your supper?" She asked briskly.

"We just need a drink, Fee." Justin explained. "Can we sit in the corner?"

Fiona patted his shoulder. "Sure thing, luv. What'll you have?"

"Can I have that herb tea – the mint one?"

"I'll have the same thing." Brian said.

Justin looked at him and gave a ghost of a smile. "You can have a beer, Brian. I wasn't really serious about only springing for coffee."

"Are you kidding me?" The man replied with a grin. "Over here the damn stuff is more expensive than the booze."

Justin smiled a little more. It was true.

"Fine." He shook his head. "Two teas, Fee."

"And some cake." She added. "You look like a pair of stickmen." As she turned to walk away she bent down and whispered to Justin. "He doesn't appear to be limping, so far as _I_ can see, luv." And with that she was gone to give their order to the waiter.

Brian gave a small laugh as she walked away. "What was that all about?" He wondered if maybe she thought Justin had kicked him too, but then realized that couldn't be, since she hadn't been there earlier. Unless, of course, it had become a habit. Maybe he'd better watch his shins.

"Nothing." Justin dismissed it. "She's a little… eccentric."

"I'll say." Brian agreed. "What is she – Deb's long lost cousin?"

Justin permitted himself a small laugh too. "She takes a little getting used to, but she's actually a lot different than Deb." He looked at Brian and added. "I mean… I love Debbie – you know I do, but… she tends to push, you know?"

"You're asking _me_ if I know?" Brian was incredulous. "Me – the second son for over fifteen years?"

"Right." Justin nodded. "I guess you're familiar."

Brian made a mental note; pushing was frowned on. Man, this was getting harder by the minute. "So… she's not too pushy huh?"

"Just in a different way." Justin tried to explain. "She totally has her opinions and she does voice them a lot of the time, but only once – she doesn't beat you over the head with them."

"And you prefer that." Brian was curious about this new life and the people in it.

"She's less mother, more friend. It's a nice change."

"Not the only change it would seem." He decided to test the waters.

"Yeah." Justin looked at him warily. "My hair's longer." He knew that wasn't what Brian meant, but he wasn't really willing to talk about anything deeper.

Surprisingly Brian let it go. "You're not planning on growing it as long as your buddy's, I hope. That's a little too gay even for me."

"Hardly." Justin rolled his eyes. "Besides… Andy's straight."

"Obviously." Brian informed him. "Who else would waste their time talking to a table full of lesbians."

Justin finally laughed sincerely as the waiter brought their tea and Fiona's prescribed sweets. Justin could see she was making a point with the one big slice and two forks, but he ignored it.

The significance was not lost on Brian either, and he wondered if he might have an ally if he played his cards right. He picked up a fork. "Looks good."

"I've had it – it is." Justin agreed. "So…"

"So?" Brian wasn't sure he was psyched for this yet. Nothing about it was going according to plan… and he'd planned so well, too.

"So – what did you want to talk about Brian?" Justin prodded. "You said this was a good place to talk and _so_… here we are. Talk."

Brian put his fork down. "I have a proposition for you."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Stop. I think I've heard this one."

"Would you let me finish?" Brian was irritated.

Justin raised his eyebrows in a "_go on_" invitation.

"Do you remember a sketch you did of a giant gazebo thing – it's a façade for the old aqueduct in the city."

"I know what it is." Justin said. "I've done a bunch of different sketches of it. Why?"

"The man I'm working for bought one from here awhile ago." Brian explained.

"That's nice." Justin offered. "But so what?"

"So… he wants you to design his new label, that's what."

Justin sat there quietly for a minute and consumed a forkful of cake.

"Well?" Brian was impatient.

"I don't know." Justin hedged. "That sounds like a big project and I'm kind of… I don't know if I'm up for something like that."

This had to be a joke. Maybe the kid wasn't getting it. "Justin, do you know who Gilles Michaud is?"

He shrugged. "Some big wig?"

"And then some." Brian was emphatic. "He fucking runs one of the most successful companies in Europe, and he's hired me to make it successful in North America too."

"And out of nowhere he wants me to design a label for… what?"

"For starters his bottled water, but who knows." Brian told him. "This could be a really big deal for you."

Justin took a sip of his tea and then replied. "I don't think so, but …thanks."

Brian wasn't exactly shocked, but he thought Justin would think it over longer than that. "Why not?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Justin cocked his head. "Brian – I don't need you to get work for me. Jesus!"

"That's not it at all." Brian was quick to explain, but alas… a little too quick. "_I_ didn't even suggest it – in fact, I told him I didn't think it was a good idea."

Justin dropped his gaze to his tea again. "Even you know I'm not good enough. See?"

Fuck. "That's not it – Christ… I just meant I thought it would be… awkward." Well, so much for things not getting any worse. "I saw the sketch Justin and some of your others… they're good."

Justin looked back up at him, insecurity peaking out for a moment before it was gone.

"Honestly." Brian insisted, hoping Justin would assume he'd seen his other work on the walls here, and not that Brian had been snooping.

"Thanks." Justin acknowledged. "But you're right… it would be too awkward."

"Not for me." Brian found himself saying quickly and inaccurately. "Unless _you _can't handle it?" He almost taunted this last.

"Well, duh." Justin wasn't going to be sucked in via childish dares, as he was wont to in the past. "No shit it would be awkward." He said unashamedly, not giving a damn if Brian thought him weak. Well, maybe just a little one, but he wasn't going to be manipulated again. He hated that more than anything.

"Look…" Brian tried a softer approach. "You're right… it'd be awkward, but… there could be a decent chunk of change for you in this, and…" He searched for the right point of persuasion. "If we're both mature about it, then maybe we could be… friendly at least."

"Friendly?" Justin scoffed.

Brian was pretty sure he'd picked the wrong point.

"Friendly." Justin tried the word out again, as though he'd never heard it before. "We've been a lot of thing to each other Brian, but I don't think we've _ever_ been friends."

"And you're satisfied to leave it that way?" His eyebrows knit together in disbelief. "You're happy with how we left it?"

"How _I_ left it." Justin huffed bitterly. "Isn't that what you mean?" He knew sooner or later Brian would want to torture him for that. Something which would be all too easy to do.

"I didn't say that." Brian said earnestly, determined to be understood, despite his unwillingness to speak clearly. He sighed and took another bite of cake, for the sole purpose of having something to do with his hands.

Justin finally spoke. "I don't think I know how to be your friend."

Brian could work with this. "You're friends with that Andy guy."

"It's different." Justin shook his head, not believing Brian couldn't see that.

"Of course it's different." Brian agreed. "Every friendship is different… you have to learn how to be friends with someone… Christ, you practically had to learn a whole new language to be friends with that guy. What the hell language is that, anyway – surfer speak?"

Justin refused to be sidetracked. "Brian… I have things the way I like them right now. It would be one thing if you were just someone I met while I was traveling - like Andy or Cal… or even Fee for that matter. They have no baggage as far as I'm concerned and they don't have to see all of mine. That's the only kind of relationship I'm interested in right now... I'm sorry."

Brian pondered that, took a sip of his tea, put down the cup, and pushed back from the table. "Fine, then…" And with that, he got up and walked out of the café.

Justin's mouth hung open for a moment in shock. He looked around to see that none had noticed this little drama, and that Fiona must be in the back. He didn't know if he'd rather she were here to witness this or not. He looked at the table and tried to collect himself. Jesus – Brian had always been kind of abrupt, but this was… Justin didn't know what it was. Before he had more time to think about it, however, there was a cleared throat across from him.

Brian was back.

_xxxx_

**I ~ Justice: **The astrological counterpart of Justice is Libra, the scales. The double-edged sword depicted in most versions of this card represents choice and indicates that Justice is a two way street. The scales refer to balance and harmony. Compromise is intrinsic to this card – learning to do what's necessary to be fair to ourselves and others. The two most important laws governed by Justice are really two sides of the same coin. First comes the law of cause and effect, stating that all events are connected and each present state is the result of all past states.

From the law of cause and order develops the law of Karma, showing that all your actions will return to you eventually. As you sow, so shall you reap. This is really a simple elaboration of the law of cause and effect. Under this new law, not only will everything you do have an effect, everything you do will have an effect on you. This is where it becomes critical to be mindful of your actions, because everything you do will come back to you eventually

**In a reading:** You get what you believe you deserve. It can reflect being between cycles – yesterday is gone and tomorrow is not yet here. When Justice appears, it should be taken as a stern reminder that the deeds of the past form the foundation for the events of the present and the future. When the Justice card is around, mind your actions and make sure you don't do anything you might regret later and if you already have – hang on! Justice often appears to warn you that she will meet you again soon if you stay on your current path. Whether this is good or not remains yours to decide. And before you judge others you must be prepared to judge yourself, and ensure that you are not guilty of the same errors as they. Righting any wrongs in your past must be done before you can attempt to right wrongs in your present.


	14. The Hanged Man

Brian couldn't believe that crap he'd spouted about friendship. Not that he really thought it was crap. Not exactly. Actually what had him surprised was the fact that he knew it _wasn't _crap. On some level, even _he _realized that relationships – new or old, platonic or otherwise, required some effort on the part of the participants. If the young man in front of him was so far gone that Brian knew more about relationships than he did – it was a dark day indeed.

He wasn't sure what to do now. Brian had anticipated that this would be difficult, certainly, but he had not expected this absolute freeze in negotiations so soon. He should probably just accept that even his finesse wasn't going to sway Justin, and get the fuck out of there.

He took a sip of his tea to stall for time and replayed the discouraging conversation over, searching for anything in the way of hope. God, he must look like an idiot. He felt like one too and it wasn't a feeling he was used to, nor one he wished to become familiar with.

"Fine, then…" With that, Brian got up and walked out of the café without so much as looking back. What was the point? What would he see there but failure… on so many different levels.

As he walked out the door and took a few steps away, his recent words to Justin came back to him. _"And you're satisfied to leave it that way?_" He stopped where he stood. Fuck, no – he wasn't satisfied to leave it that way at all, but what were his options? _"It would be one thing if…"_ His inner voice made a daring suggestion, but he wasn't sure if it was such a great idea.

Go with the flow… he'd heard variations on that theme for a while now, and frankly… he was out of options. It was, after all, the first thing that had popped into his head when he heard Justin's statement. There was something about it that appealed to him. Fresh start and all that? Maybe. Or maybe his subconscious knew better than he did. Christ – he'd been spending too much time with Gilles. Either way… he wasn't exactly brimming with better ideas.

He turned on his heel and walked back into the café. Well – he already felt pretty foolish; might as well see what full throttle moronic was like. He approached the table again, cleared his throat and spoke. "Is this seat taken?"

Justin blinked up at Brian. "Huh?" He was beyond confused.

"I'm sorry." The older man stuck out his hand. "Brian Kinney. And you are… Justin Taylor, I presume? Local artist for hire?" When no answer was forthcoming Brian retracted his hand and smirked. "Parlez vous Anglais, Monsieur Taylor?"

"Are you insane?" Justin hissed. "Sit down, if you're staying."

"Don't mind if I do." Brian slouched into the chair.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Do you speak to _all _your new acquaintances this way?" Brian tsked. "No wonder you were sitting alone."

Justin just stared at him, flabbergasted… waiting for some kind of explanation.

"Well…" Brian shrugged. "You _said _it would be different if I was just someone you met here." He looked at Justin earnestly. "I can be just some guy. Well… some really good looking guy." He amended, then gestured around him. "And look – I left my luggage elsewhere; I appear to be baggage free for the moment."

"Now I _know _you're insane." Justin shook his head. "Look, Brian… I can't go back to our usual routine of you dancing around what you really want to say, and me desperately trying to pin you down to it. It takes too much energy. Energy I just don't have."

"Did it occur to you that maybe I don't either?"

"Fuck, that'd be nice." Justin sighed.

"Give it a chance." Brian said neutrally. "What have you got to lose?"

"Uh… _my _sanity too?" Justin was emphatic. "You're going to the loony bin _alone._"

"I'm serious." Brian insisted. "Michaud desperately wants you to draw his label." Brian knew he was implying more than was true. "And my job, among other things …is to make sure that he gets what he wants."

Justin finally met his gaze. "If I don't… it wouldn't cause you trouble at work, would it?" The concern was obvious in his voice.

Brian hadn't thought of that, but far be it from him to look a gift advantage in… well … where ever you looked. He dropped his eyes slightly; a posture he knew made him appear vulnerable. "Probably not."

"Probably?" Justin asked.

Brian didn't meet the kid's gaze. "No – definitely not." He knew that Justin would assume he was lying, but decided the fact that he wasn't, absolved him. What was the Disraeli quote Gilles had given? Something about telling the truth in order to hide it. He suspected this wasn't exactly what the man had in mind, however sometimes the end justified the means. Hey - what do you know; he wasn't as lapsed a Catholic as he'd thought.

Brian had been so caught up in his own machinations that he hadn't realized how long Justin had been silent. As he looked up, he could see the wheels turning and a look of resolution on the fair face.

"All right." Justin began. "I'll do it." He owed Brian too much not to do this for him if he could. And maybe he could finally feel like he'd atoned a bit for the way he'd ended things. They had needed to end, but he could have chosen a more mature way to do so. Perhaps he could try his hand at a little maturity now to make up for it.

"Really?" Brian couldn't believe it had worked and felt a small bit of guilt after all, over the possible … okay, the _blatant _manipulation. "If you really don't w…"

"I do have a few conditions, though." Justin interrupted. He'd do it, but only if Brian agreed to help make it bearable.

The older man cringed inwardly. This was sounding far too familiar, and he doubted he'd fair any better than Michael had. "Okay…" He prompted cautiously.

"You have to be serious about it." Justin insisted.

"About the offer?" Brian was confused.

"About being just some regular guy who doesn't know me… you have to really do it."

"I can be professional, Justin." Brian wanted a little credit. "It's not like I haven't had to work with some assholes over the years, and…" He realized that remark had hardly come out well. "I didn't mean…"

"I know you didn't." Justin acknowledged with a slight smirk. "But I'm sure a case could be made for Freudian slip."

Brian simply picked up his tea for a moment and hid his expression in the cup, not caring that the beverage had cooled. He had to get a handle on this conversation. "I just meant that I've had to work under less than ideal conditions and still make nice."

"You don't have to make nice, exactly." Justin assured him. "I didn't mean you had to be some guy that actually _likes _me."

"What if I want to be?" Brian almost looked around to see who said that, before realizing that _he _had. Justin didn't seem to know what to make of it either, so they both ignored it and moved on. "So… let me see if I have this straight." Brian addressed the artist again. "You _will _do the project… provided we pretend to be total strangers." He said this without derision – but rather as though he was simply clarifying.

"Yes." Justin knew there was no other way he could handle it, and he wasn't even sure about this one.

"I can do that." Brian said evenly, after a pause. "Except for… well, what about things I _would _know about – at least as it relates to your skill… do I have to pretend that I don't?"

Brian still seemed to be taking this seriously, so Justin compromised. "Ok –not necessarily a _total _stranger… say a friend of a friend maybe."

Brian smirked. "As long as we don't pretend it's the fiddler, you're on."

"Yeah… and another condition would be not to say shit like that." Justin glared.

"All right." Brian made a face. "But in the interest of clarification… let's make the common friend Lindsay."

Justin considered it. That seemed fairly benign and at least he wouldn't have to pretend to know nothing about Gus – he was dying for some news of him. He missed seeing the toddler more than he would have imagined. "Fine." He resolved. "But Brian – if you can't do this… that's it... I'll quit. I don't care how you have to write it up; if you renege, then I walk with no hassle. Agreed?"

Brian was now the one weighing his options. He wasn't quite sure how he would cover that contingency, but he hoped he wouldn't have to. "Agreed."

"Okay then..." Justin looked kind of shell shocked, as though he couldn't quite believe he'd done this. Well, what the fuck… He stuck out his hand. "I guess we have a deal, Mr. Kinney."

Brian couldn't hold back a little smile when he took Justin's hand in his and felt the small spark of energy pass between them. "Welcome aboard, Mr Taylor." He shook the strong hand a moment, and then forced himself to let go. "I'd like to get started as soon as possible. We do have a bit of a deadline situation… but I'll have more on that after I make a few calls tomorrow."

Justin wasn't paying attention to what Brian was saying, but rather to how the brief contact with the man's skin had affected him. He asked a neutral question that he hoped would not give away his lack of focus. "What do I need to do?"

Brian was relieved to get to the practicalities. He was going to need a little more time to figure out how to deal with the new wrinkles in his ever evolving plan. "We're looking to have a sketch of something called Pont du Gard as the representation on the label. We haven't tried out any other artists because we just got the concept and Michaud wanted to see what you could do with it first. He says you have a good feel for that kind of architecture." He smiled when Justin looked pleased at the compliment, and then continued. "We'll have to get some sketches of it… and it's a little ways out of town. Maybe you've been to it before?"

"Not yet."

"Well, if you're free tomorrow, how about we head out around eleven – I could pick you up at your hotel." Brian suggested. "I can get some shots of it and you can do some preliminary sketches."

"Okay." Justin agreed.. "But I'll drive." He felt he needed to have some degree of control in the situation, so he was going to beg Cal to lend him his car. He'd borrowed it before and he was sure he could talk him into it for tomorrow too.

Brian had a feeling this was another non-negotiable condition and wisely did not dispute it. "You might have to come to the Paris office at some point too." He continued with explanations. "Is that all right?"

"Fine." Justin nodded. "I have to head up there sometime in the next few weeks anyway."

"Oh?" Brian attempted blasé.

"Just … some errands."

"Ah." Brian nodded and picked up a fork again. He had a bad feeling about what they might entail, but he knew enough to leave it alone… for now at least. "Glad it won't be a problem."

"So – you want me to pick you up at eleven." Justin confirmed.

"I can meet you here." Brian said. "I'm not even sure how to tell you to get Gilles' house. We'll figure it out later."

"Okay."

"Justin." He was unsure of how to address this. "I can have a contract drawn up by then too. Do you… I don't know, maybe want to check with Mel or something …to make sure it's fair?"

Justin didn't really want to make this a bigger deal than it needed to be and he was hardly expecting Brian to be anything less than fair. Not as it pertained to compensation, anyway. _"You'll _be making up the contract?"

Brian nodded.

"Then, no… it's fine." He shrugged. "I trust you."

They both pretended not to feel the significance of those words and resumed polishing off the cake in relative silence.

_xxxx_

"Justin… darlin'…" Fiona pleaded. "Sit down and drink your tea. It's only half-ten now, and he's not meant to arrive for another thirty minutes. Settle yourself, lad – you're making me that dizzy, and I'm only just out of bed."

Justin couldn't help his fidgeting. "Sorry, Fee… I guess I'm a little nervous." He admitted what she already knew.

"Well, of course you are." She soothed. "And who wouldn't be, I'd like to know." She wanted to reassure him however. "Justin, I've met this Gilles Michaud and he's a decent sort. And though the situation's a bit… odd…" She went with the understatement. "I'm sure your… er… I'm sure that Brian will look out for you. You've only to concentrate on doing what you love."

"I guess." She meant drawing right?

"Did you not tell me you were wishing you could afford a whole semester at once, instead of just a few classes?" She reminded him. "Well here's a fine chance to finance it."

"True." Justin nodded. That possibility had not been lost on him, but he was honest enough to admit that the thought of spending time with Brian was it's own incentive. "Besides, it's not like I had anything better to do today."

"That's the spirit." Fiona's sarcasm was lost on Justin, as Brian walked in the door.

Fiona sighed to herself. They'd obviously each come early in nervous anticipation of spending time together, and yet here they were, both of them looking as though they couldn't be more shocked to see the other.

"Hey." They chorused as Brian approached. "Sorry…" They each apologized for the double greeting, and then laughed when that too was in stereo.

Fiona shook her head. "Well – you seem very much in sync for a pair of lads who've only just met." She rolled her eyes and gestured to Brian. "I've your things ready early – lucky for you."

Justin looked between them. "What things?"

Brian took a seat and glanced at him. "I just thought… I don't know what's around there and we might get hungry. So I called and asked if they could throw a couple things together."

Fiona managed to contain her harrumph at that. Throw together indeed. She'd been given a very specific list and it was hardly made on a whim. She didn't know what Brian was up to, but it seemed it was nothing dire. Not as pertained to food, at least.

"Oh." Justin gave Fiona a look that said "_why didn't you mention it?_" and then turned his attention back to Brian. "Did you want to go?" He suddenly had no idea what to say and though he'd been determined to lead this encounter, he was floundering. "I mean… it's earlier than we said – maybe you wanted breakfast… we could…"

"I've eaten." Brian assured him. "We can hit the road now if you're ready."

Justin was probably the furthest thing from ready, but he'd agreed to this and he was sure he could do it – if Brian would adhere to the rules they'd made. Not that following the rules had ever been _Brian's _problem. Ghaaa… not a great train of thought to be pulling out of the station with. Moving right along. "Ok – the car's out front. I'll be right there." He disappeared into the back for a moment to get his things and hit the washroom. He didn't need to take a piss, but thought a little cold water splashed on his face might make it a little less red than he was sure it must be.

After Justin excused himself, Fiona pulled out a canvas bag from behind the counter and placed it on the floor next to Brian.

"What do I owe you?" He pulled out his wallet.

"You don't want to know." She replied. "We'll call it even if you promise to bring him back in one piece."

"_He's_ the one that's driving." Brian pointed out.

"You're not so daft as to think I was referring to the car ride." She was sure he knew better.

He did. "I'll do my best."

"Well… that's all a body can ask." She said, and then gestured out the window. "At least you've a decent day for it."

"That's one thing going right." Brian pronounced. "Let's hope it's a trend." He picked up the bag and walked towards the door. "Thanks."

Shortly after that, Justin came out from the kitchen area, backpack in hand and resolute expression in place. "I'll see you later, Fee."

"Have a good day, luv." She instructed encouragingly.

She returned behind the bar and a moment later, observed Andrew make his entrance. "Early again, my lad. I'll start to wonder if you're after gettin' on my good side."

"Always, Fee. Always." He smiled. "What's Justin up to? He seemed a bit… off."

"That's a distinct possibility." Fiona agreed. "He's going to do a bit of work for his… for that Brian."

"Must be something big then." Andrew commented. "Poor bastard looked kind of, I don't know… worried or something. I wish I'd known to tell him good luck." And with that Andrew disappeared into the back to get ready for his shift.

Fiona sighed and sipped her tea. "I'm not sure who'd need that luck more, darlin'… but I think today …we might just find out."

_xxxx_

As far as Brian was concerned, they'd officially run out of neutral small talk. They'd covered French food, French driving, French clothes, the volume of Australian expiates… and today's weather. He wished he'd been a little clearer about what they could, and could not talk about. He felt like he was in some Twilight Zone episode. Fuck it – the only way to find out what wasn't allowed was, as usual, to push the limits of what was.

"How long have you been in Montpellier?" It was the first remotely personal question he'd asked, and he tried to treat it like the other minutiae they'd discussed in the hour they'd been on the road. Thank God they'd be there soon.

Justin hoped Brian wasn't breaking their bargain already, and chose to give him the benefit of the doubt… for now. "Since about the second week in July."

Brian nodded. "So… awhile then."

"I guess." Justin's tone was slightly more wary and he shot a glance toward Brian, out of the corner of his eye. The man appeared to be doing nothing more than gazing at the scenery.

Brian had not missed the implied warning, however, and proceeded with a modicum more caution. "What do you like about it so much?"

Justin heard nothing more than sincere interest in his voice and so chose to answer truthfully. "I guess it's partly the permanence of it, you know? It's just so… solid. I found that about a lot of things in the parts of Europe I've seen, but I especially love France." His face reflected his affection for the subject matter. "I liked Paris a lot, but after awhile it's too big and too busy. Montpellier gives me just the right size to deal with, and the surrounding countryside is _amazing. _There's a ton of places I'm still dying to take a day trip to and sketch…" He trailed off, not having intended such verbosity.

"My client claims the wine around here is something to rave about." Brian volunteered. "He's quite the connoisseur and he's furthering my oenological  
education."

"What's he like?" Justin asked after a pause.

Brian shrugged his shoulders and smiled ruefully. "Probably the coolest straight guy I've ever met." He laughed after he said it and Justin joined him, albeit somewhat confusedly. "He's… I don't know…" Brian continued. "…he's just really got his shit together."

"You like him." Justin sounded a little awed.

Brian looked over at him and felt unaccountably embarrassed. "Yeah…" He admitted. "I do."

Brian scrunched up his nose in that way that Justin had always found irresistible, and so the young man ignored it and made sure to keep his gaze firmly fixed on the road. "Well that's lucky, since you have to work with him and everything."

"True." Brian said softly, thinking about who else he liked and now found himself working with.

Justin said nothing for a moment, then when the silence became uncomfortable, ventured. "How do you like Paris?"

"I like it." Brian told him. "But you're right… it's big and busy." He smiled at Justin, who could hear it in his voice and thus refused to look.

"It's totally easy to get around at least." Justin commented. "The Metro is cool… better than any public transportation in the States."

"Oh I don't know… " Brian disagreed. "The New York Subway system kicks some ass." Then he got a little mischievous and asked, tongue in cheek. "Haven't you been? I was sure I heard once that you'd been to New York."

Justin felt his cheeks flame and would have become angry as well as embarrassed, if some little part of him didn't also want to laugh. He compromised by ignoring the intent behind Brian's words, and answering them only at face value. "I wasn't there long enough – so maybe you're right." He smiled slightly. "But I bet New York doesn't have those weird little old ladies and their purse dogs."

Brian laughed loudly at that. "Fuck… I know – they carry fucking little _kickme_ dogs everywhere in those things. And what about the sidewalk shoe mines? I almost ruined my black Kenneth Coles."

"Oh my God, it's so true." Justin became animated. "I haven't seen one person pick up after their dog." He shook his head. "Did you know they run water down the gutters in the early morning to wash it all down the sewers? I don't even want to _think _about where it finally ends up." He made his _ick _face.

Brian didn't know whether to be pleased at the lessening tension, or annoyed that the stereotypical guy standby of bathroom humour, was what finally broke the ice. It was official: he was never going to mature beyond his teenage years. Debbie had been right after all and... no… he wasn't going to do that, he reminded himself. He wasn't going to let people at home influence who he was here. He was about to try another avenue of conversation when Justin suddenly gestured to his right. "That's the sign, isn't it?"

Brian consulted the map Gilles had given him and then nodded. "Yeah. Good eye."

Justin turned down the road indicated by the post. "It's probably because I'm used to seeing things in French by now."

"I meant to ask you that." Brian had forgotten in his earlier discomfort. "So you do speak it."

"I took it in school." Justin said.

Brian laughed. "Yeah… that doesn't necessarily mean you speak it."

"True." Justin smiled a little and agreed. "It wasn't as educational as just listening to it every day is."

"That would do it." Brian said neutrally, although he was thinking about all the things he didn't know about Justin. Shouldn't he have remembered that the kid took French? How could he not know something as simple as Justin speaking another language.

"How about yours?" Justin interrupted his thoughts. "Any good?"

"Comme ci Comme ca." He shrugged. "But if we find ourselves in a situation where it's required… feel free to speak up. I pretty much suck." He admitted with a grin.

"Sure." Justin mumbled. He was unable to formulate much in the way of a thoughtful response to anything… what with the word _suck _coming from Brian's lips and all. It didn't matter the context or the passage of time… apparently it still got Justin hard. He squirmed a bit to ease the feeling and hoped it wasn't noticeable. Thankfully there were other things to take Brian's attention. "There it is."

Brian looked to where Justin indicated and saw that they had indeed arrived. They got out, unloaded the car and camped out in one of several small clearings below the structure.

By quiet agreement they each set about separately capturing it's likeness in their medium of choice. Brian closer up - working with his tripod, and Justin moving to several locations to get a variety of vantage points. What neither knew was that at first, they were equally unable to concentrate – not on what they should be, at least.

At first Justin struggled valiantly to sketch only the impressive piece of architecture in front of him… and keep his eyes off the impressive piece of ass next to him. He started three or four different drawings that all refused to co-operate, demanding he cave and put in a little Brian.

He glanced to his left again and watched as the man took his camera off the stand and knelt down to get some shots from a lower angle. Brian in motion was certainly a beautiful thing. He was so… fluid. The way he moved his body always compelled Justin to draw it. God it had been so long since he'd had Brian pose for him.

That was it. He'd draw Brian. Focus everything into one drawing… now, while he _did _have that live model. Maybe then he could focus on what he was really supposed to be doing. Sort of an artistic exorcism. His pace on the fresh sheet of paper was manic, and he began to lose himself in his creation… in a way he hadn't for far too long.

He glanced once in awhile towards Brian – more for inspiration than modelling, actually…since the scene he was drawing came straight out of his imagination. However, it definitely depicted the man who was several feet away, and engrossed in his own artistic endeavor.

Brian's "artistic endeavor" was pissing him off. What Justin probably assumed was a scowl of concentration was, in fact, simply a scowl. He had erased over a dozen pictures from his digital camera that were crap. He should be doing better than that… distraction or no.

He couldn't help it. No matter which direction he turned, his attention was invariably drawn to the young man sketching away so intently just a few feet from him. Brian had always admired Justin's focus. He thought Justin beautiful always, but felt there was something otherworldly about him when he was drawing. So many times Brian had caught himself staring at Justin working away on something, when he should probably be doing the same. It was one of many guilty pleasures he indulged in. And one he couldn't any longer. He'd better freeze this image in his mind now, so he'd have something to draw on later when he had to go without.

Oh my God. He was an idiot. Freeze them in his mind… to hell with that; he had a perfectly good camera for Christ's sake. Justin had been right – he was losing it. He glanced over to his right and observed that his subject was oblivious to just about everything but his work. Brian moved so that he could theoretically be aiming at the aqueduct, but was actually focusing a close up on Justin's face. Several, in fact. He suddenly couldn't fathom why he didn't have more. How could he not have realized that he should be documenting as much of that happiness as he could. Then he'd be sure to always have it… or at least proof that it had existed, anyway.

After two hours, both of them having got some actual work done, Brian suggested they take a break and have something to eat. He found that Fiona had included a thin blanket folded neatly in the bag, in addition to the items he'd requested. He laid everything out and then asked Justin if he'd like some wine.

Justin finally put down his sketch pad and came over. "What's this?"

"I know you've been here awhile so maybe you've forgotten, but we Americans like to call this _lunch._" He consulted his watch. "Specifically a late lunch, I guess."

I meant," Justin sat down cross legged and pick up a piece of baguette. "what are we _having _for lunch. Smart ass."

Brian smiled and passed him a glass. "Just some light stuff… a little brie, some paté… and I think this cheese is a local gruyere…" He trailed off, put down the one in his hand, and set about taking some grapes out of the bag as well.

If Justin had an opinion about their fare, he kept it to himself and simply set about eating it. Brian searched his face for a reaction of any kind, but found none. Had he forgotten? Had Brian perhaps not got all the elements of the picnic right? He wasn't sure. The only thing he was sure of was that Justin had acquired a hell of a poker face.

Maybe he was going about this all wrong. He couldn't help being caught up in thinking about him and them in the context of what they once were. Maybe he could try truly doing what he had originally proposed… and treat Justin like a recent acquaintance whom he wanted to know better. "What do you think of this wine?" He asked.

"It's nice." Justin replied. "I'm pretty familiar with it; Fiona serves it a lot."

"So you've been sampling over here, have you?" Brian inquired with a smile.

"A bit." Justin said around a mouthful of bread. "I started to develop a taste for it when I was in Bordeaux."

"Did you take a tour?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "It was really interesting. Actually this wine is from a vineyard I have been meaning to get to. It's near this place called Rennes Le Chateau that I want to visit."

Brian didn't think he'd heard of it. "What's that?"

"It's this freaky little village that has a tiny church in it, and it's involved in all this mystery involving the Knights Templar and the Illuminati. It's really cool."

"Sounds bizarre."

"It is, to hear Fiona tell it." Justin agreed. "There's this book I keep starting that's related to it called _Holy Blood Holy Grail_… I never seem to finish it, though. Maybe after I finally go."

"Which is when?" Brian asked.

"No idea." Justin shrugged. "I'll get around to it."

Clearly not a kid who was planning on leaving the area anytime soon, Brian noted. "What else is on your 'to visit' list?"

"Well, I haven't made it to Carcasonne yet."

"This one I know." Brian said. "Ancient walled city, right?"

"That's the one." Justin confirmed. "It's mostly just restored, but it's supposed to be pretty good. I'll get to it eventually."

"Maybe when you need more material for your work." Brian commented. "Have you sold many already?"

"Surprisingly, yeah." Justin nodded.

"Hardly surprisingly." Brian told him. "You're very talented."

Justin didn't meet his eyes. "Thanks."

They ate in silence for several minutes until Justin finally put down his glass and stood, picking up his sketch pad as he did so. "I should get some more on paper." He said. "The light actually doesn't last as long as you might think."

As Justin walked some meters away, Brian wasn't sure what he had expected. One recreated picnic did not a reconciliation make; he knew that, of course. He was just hoping it might be that easy.

For his part, Justin was happy to have something to do. He didn't know how long he could have remained there, blithely lunching away, when every part of him was screaming, "_Why couldn't we have done this shit when were together?!" _But he knew that the picnic was merely a coincidence. Brian had asked Fee to put lunch together and she knew what kind of food Justin liked. In fact, he now wondered if he hadn't mentioned the picnic fiasco to her in more detail than he'd thought, and if this wasn't her way of giving them a nudge. She ought to know better than that. He'd made himself abundantly clear on the subject of he and Brian. Well… he wasn't even going to give her the satisfaction of bitching about it. He'd pretend he didn't even get it – as he was certain Brian didn't.

After another couple hours of artistic activity, they packed up their supplies and got back in the car. The sun had begun to set and they were both finding themselves a little tired.

Brian was now grateful that Justin was driving. All that nervous energy, combined with an early morning and a day in the sun, made him feel as though he could barely keep his eyes open. "You remember the way pretty well?" He inquired, putting the map on the seat between them.

"Yeah." Justin replied, settling in behind the wheel. "No problem." And they were off.

Brian began to run over possible topics of conversation, but so far he couldn't think of any introduction that wasn't impossibly awkward. As the wheels of Brian's mind began to turn a little slower, the sun sank lower and Brian's eyelids soon followed suit.

When he noticed this, Justin was rather relieved. He too felt awkward and was annoyed that he couldn't just shake it off. Brian's light snores were Justin's saving bell, and now he could just think about driving. Without the threat of conversation, he wouldn't have to concentrate on Brian at all, he resolved, his eyes darting over involuntarily. No concentrating on Brian at all, no sir. Certainly not on the way Brian's lips were half-parted in the relaxation of slumber. Or the fan of dark lashes against sun warmed skin. When a senseless Brian shifted a little, Justin found he had to do likewise, since his pants had seemingly become less spacious.

That situation soon became the least of his problems however, when the car sputtered a moment, and then rolled to a quiet stop at the side of the road. Justin scrutinized the dash board and found his suspicions confirmed: they were out of gas. As he perused the map to see how close they were to the next town, he came to the conclusion that things were going to get worse before they got better. He cast a worried glance at the now stirring Brian. Oh yeah - much _much _worse.

**XII ~ The Hanged Man: **Think transition, postponed plans, a life in suspension, stagnation and frustration. You need to do a 180 in how you perceive something. After-all, a person hanging upside down doesn't see the world in the same way as someone standing on the ground.

The Hanged Man is the only Tarot card visibly based on a mythological figure. He is Odin, the Norse god who hung from the World Tree for nine days to earn the knowledge of the Runes. Of all the cultures who embody the search for knowledge in their myths, only Odin carries out his quest without moving, at least in the physical sense. The true quest is seeking within, not without. This may be confusing at first, but only because the Hanged Man is the card of the paradox. The Hanged Man's mysteries are some of the oddest yet most enlightening the Tarot has to offer, and they cannot be learned by searching for lessons in the physical world - you must turn within.

**In a reading**:  
Adjust your point of view, reverse your established order of doing things. The decision you're waiting for is delayed. Make an effort to avoid negative reaction, as this standstill is not permanent.

As the card of the paradox, the Hanged Man also urges you to look at things in a new and different way. If your mind is yelling at you to do something, then doing nothing could be the best thing to do. If something is important to you emotionally but it no longer serves a purpose, you might want to think about letting go of it. And don't try to force anything to happen while the Hanged Man is about. By trying to force changes, you ensure that they never happen. Relax and let things happen instead of trying to interfere. Instead of fighting against the current, let it take you wherever it is flowing.

**A/N: If you made it this far, won't you please send a short review? It's why I spend time doing this. :)**


	15. Death

"We there already?" Brian blinked the sleep from his eyes.

"No." Justin replied nervously. "Not yet." He'd been sitting there for the last ten minutes in silence, desperately wishing this moment away.

Brian took in their motionless state on the small gravel drive. "What's up?"

"Everything's fine." Justin began nervously.

"Ok." Brian yawned. "Good."

"It's just that we… uh… kind of ran out of gas and… I'm not entirely sure where we might find the nearest Petrol Station.

Brian let that sink in as he came fully awake. "This is obviously some strange usage of the word 'fine' that I was unaware of."

Upon hearing Brian's annoyed sarcasm, Justin suddenly got his nerve back… in spades. "Ok, fine... we're lost."

"What do you mean?" Brian narrowed his eyes.

"We're lost." Justin huffed dramatically. "Are you having trouble with '_We're'_ or '_lost'_?"

"I don't fucking _believe_ this.." Brian shook his head, as all his nervous tension and his disappointment in the day, finally found vent. "I should just kill myself right now… but I'd probably end up in Hell, and _that_ would be redundant."

"I'm not any happier about this than you are, you know."

"What are we near?" Brian would take any clue.

"You know, I've been asking myself that same question since we got here." Justin ground out. "And I finally figured out we are somewhere between the end of the line and the middle of _nowhere_."

"I see." Brian said tightly. "And where is that on the map, exactly?"

"Well if I could _see _the map… I'd point it out for you."

"All right… you're the one who's gone native – what do we do now?" Brian demanded.

Justin held his temper and thought a moment. "We need to head south. All the major roads around here zigzag south towards the Mediterranean – we'd cross one eventually, and those roads always have houses on them. It's probably faster than following this stupid dirt path. Now, all we need is a flashlight, some water for the walk, and a compass to make sure we're going the right way."

"Well why didn't you say so?" Brian mocked. "Hold on a minute while I pull that out of my ass."

"There's no need to be a jerk about it." Justin gave him a dirty look. "Cal is even more paranoid than I am, and I'm sure he's got that kind of stuff in the trunk." They both opened their doors and got out, Justin walking behind the car. "I'll check."

He lifted the hatch and peered inside, moving a few items out of the way.

"Well?" Brian asked impatiently. "Is there a compass?"

"No." Justin replied.

"I fucking _knew_ it!" Brian was feeling a little desperate.

"… but this extra can of gas might be useful." Justin held it up triumphantly. "And there _is_ a flashlight."

"Yes!" Brian raised his arms in victory, and both men laughed with relief.

After settling down and getting the tank filled, they spread the map on the hood of the car and perused it by flashlight, although Justin doubted it's assistance, at this point.

Brian leaned in and took a closer look at something that caught his attention.

"Hey." Justin elbowed him in the ribs. "There's a concept called personal space. Look into it." His voice was serious, but a smile played on his lips.

Fighting a grin, Brian took the flashlight from Justin's hand and shone it on a spot some distance from them that he'd noticed when they got out of the car. "Look over there. What do you see?"

Justin squinted into the dark. "I think it's a church."

Brian returned the beam to the map and pointed to a spot on it. "And what's this little symbol here?"

"A church." Justin smiled. "But how do we know it's _this_ church?"

"Because we can only be on one of three dirt roads, and this is the only Church on any of them." Brian reasoned. "I think we're less than a mile from the highway."

They grinned at each other and got back in the car. "Sorry about that." Justin apologized, now embarrassed by his mistake. "Things looked different in the dark, and I guess I got a little confused."

"Don't worry about it." Brian assured him. "I shouldn't have freaked out so much. I just dread being stranded, that's all. It's… a thing."

Justin raised his eyebrows, but merely said. "Oh."

Brian knew he was going to regret this, but then, his other weird ideas had played out fine… so far, anyway. "Want to know why?" He offered hesitantly.

"Okay…" Justin gave a surprised little smile.

"First year of College…some buddies and I thought it'd be a good idea to drive down to Miami for Spring break, so…" Brian began what would be a rather embarrassing tale.

He continued the history through their quick stop for more gas, and Justin was thoroughly engrossed. It was a story that ultimately boasted no beaches, but _did_ contain two flat tires, some redneck country detours, several malodorous livestock…and one genuine farmer's daughter. It didn't end well.

"So what did you do?" Justin finally asked, horrified.

Brian threw him an incredulous look. "Well, what would _you _do?"

He grinned. "I'd rather take my chances bunking with the cows!"

Brian grimaced. "Bingo."

"Nooo! I _so_ can't picture that." Justin laughed. He couldn't help it. "Oh wait… now I can... and it's really disturbing."

Justin laughed all the harder and Brian was glad to hear it, although he pretended to scold sadly. "Pretty rude to laugh at a guy you barely know."

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you."

"I'm not laughing." Brian pointed out.

"Besides… after _that_ story?" Justin grinned widely. "I think I know you a little better than I want to. Not to mention those poor cows…"

"All right, all right." Brian smiled, ruefully. "I knew there was a reason I never told anybody."

Justin quieted a little and took in the approaching city. "Really?" He asked with an attempt at nonchalance. "Nobody knows?"

"Nope." Brian shook his head. "Not a soul. Well, except that guy, Peter… and last I heard he lived in South Dakota. I'm not too worried he's going to rat me out."

"I don't know." Justin shrugged. "How long do cows live? There may be some around that could tell the tale. Well… moo it, anyway."

"Let's just say I'm a big steak fan." Brian assured him with a smirk.

"You ate the witnesses?" Justin was certain the man was kidding… mostly. "You really _don't_ want this story getting around, do you."

"Exactly." Brian agreed. "I hope you can keep a secret." He gave a sly smile, but did not look over. "I'd hate to have to eat you."

Justin held back a grin at the threat. "Or I could be exiled to South Dakota." He reminded. "Don't worry. You can trust me."

And once again they ignored the deeper meaning of those words.

"One thing's for sure." Justin vowed. "I'm going to be very careful when I drive up to Rennes le Chateau. There's a few too many cows on that route." He made a face. "And it might be worse… since they're French!" He snickered again.

Brian however, thought he'd been handed his next move. "When are you going to go?" He asked.

"I don't know." Justin shrugged. "Anytime, I guess. Why?"

"I just thought it sounded pretty cool." He eased into it. "I might like to see it too."

"Really?" Justin gave him a strange look. "I wouldn't have guessed it was your kind of thing."

"Too see an old church – not usually." Brian allowed. "But the way you described it, makes it sound like an Umberto Eco novel, and he's one of my favorite authors."

Justin remembered that, because in the odd moment of boredom at the loft, he had read several. "You're right, actually. I hadn't thought of that, but it does sound like one."

"And didn't you say there were a bunch of vineyards on the way?" Brian recalled. "I'm always interested in wine."

"True." Justin hesitated at this turn of events. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to invite Brian or what? _Would_ he invite some guy he just met? Especially if he was technically working for him? Probably. If he liked him as much as he liked Brian. But he hesitated too long.

"Nevermind." Brian dismissed the notion, annoyed with himself for pushing. "You probably have plans to go with friends."

They pulled into the Michaud driveway at Brian's direction. "Wow. It's really nice." Justin commented.

"Yeah." Brian agreed as they came to a stop. He grabbed his briefcase and opened it, looking for something in the glow of the outdoor lighting. "I brought that contract, by the way. I just forgot to give it to you." He handed it over.

Justin took the short document and studied it, briefly. "Fuck. No way!"

"What?" Brian was confused. He thought he'd covered Justin's peculiar demands very diplomatically. And he had… that wasn't what the kid was pissed about, apparently.

"This is too much money, Brian." Justin was angry at the perceived effort to control. "I don't need to be looked after, you know. Fuck – I'm not some helpless little baby that you have to take care of and support… I am perfectly capable of…"

"Whoa!" Brian interrupted. "Slow down for a second… Jesus." He took in the glaring countenance and crossed arms. "You are perfectly capable… which is why I agreed to hire you." He cut Justin off with a gesture, as he seemed about to cut in. "And I checked the going rate here for the work we need you to do, and this certainly isn't more than that." Brian assured him. "If anything, I cut us a discount because you don't have your degree yet." There. Throw in a little 'value of finishing school' vibe as well.

"Is that true?" Justin asked, calmer now.

"I realize that not knowing you for very long gives me an edge," He tried a smile. "but have I ever lied to you?"

"No." Justin relaxed his posture. "I guess you've got me there."

"Ok, then." Brian handed him a pen.

After Justin signed and returned the pen, he was silent a moment, then looked sideways at Brian. "Other than the running out of gas thing… well, today… it was kind of …fun. Wasn't it?

"Yeah." Brian agreed. "It was."

Justin pretended to consider this. "Which means it would probably be fun again." He checked Brian for any negative reaction, but found none. "Logically speaking."

"That seems likely." Brian replied neutrally, having the feeling he was going to get his way.

Justin directed his gaze away from Brian and became terribly interested in something on the dash in front of him. "So - if by some miracle, after this explosion of neuroses, you still want to hang out, then…"

"How about Saturday?" Brian interrupted. "Wine country and freaky churches."

"I'm sorry about overreacting." Justin apologized. "I just hate being coddled." He smiled directly at Brian. "It's… a thing."

"Ah." Brian nodded. "I understand… about things." He opened the door and turned back. "What do you say we compare portfolios from the day… say Wednesday night. We can have dinner and you can regale me with the origins of your phobia. I won't even laugh." He promised. "I'm not as mean as you are."

Justin laughed. "Fee's?"

"Done." Brian now hesitated again. Should he kiss him? No. Definitely not. Peck his cheek? Lame. What about shaking hands? Jesus… when did this get so fucking complicated? It felt suspiciously like deciding what to do at the end of a first date. He settled for giving the kid a quick pat on the shoulder and stepping out of the car. He shut the door and crouched by the window a second. "Seven o'clock good for you?"

"Sure." Justin nodded. He watched as Brian finally stood up and took a step away from the car. Right… his cue to leave. He'd forgotten he had to. Justin raised his hand in a wave and pulled ahead in the circular drive.

"Later." Each whispered, wondering how to fill the time 'til then.

_xxxx_

"What do you mean '_can we change today's theme'_?" Fiona was indignant. "You know Marc puts a lot of thought into when he does Italian. You can't ask the poor man to change half way through the day just to suit you."

"Fee," Justin explained for the third time. "I don't care what it is… as long as it _isn't_ Italian."

"But laddie, you love Italian." Fiona tried being patient. "And if Brian dislikes it so, we'll make him a special dish."

"It's not that…" Justin shook his head in frustration. "Brian likes Italian too… it's just… it's hard to explain. It's the atmosphere I want to change more than the food." Justin sighed. "It's the busiest night and big Italian dinners are likely to remind him of home.. and people there… and things that happened there." He trailed off. "He was almost acting like he'd forgotten, and the last thing I want to do is remind him. I just… I want to enjoy this time as much as possible since it's all I'm going to have."

"I'm not sure I understand, luv, but any road…there's naught to be done about it now." Fiona shrugged. "It's simply too late in the day to be asking a chef to change his menu."

Justin nodded in understanding. He _had_ left it too late. It's just that last night his head was spinning with thoughts and he'd run for hours, trying to exhaust himself. It had worked eventually, but he'd done such a good job that he slept later than usual, and was just now coming in… at two-thirty in the afternoon.

He would have called Brian to change venues, but even if he could find the number… it was late and the man was certain to be suspicious. It would have to be here. He'd just have to hope that Fiona's famous Italian night didn't remind Brian as much of Deb's family dinners, as it did him.

He glumly nursed his coffee and thought about what to wear. He resented that he actually gave a shit, but there was no getting around it. He reasoned that he'd care what any cute guy he was spending time with would think… and that's all Brian was. Some cute guy he was working with. They'd agreed on it and he was happy with the arrangement so far. He just didn't want anything to ruin it. He sighed into his tea again as Fiona set about brewing another pot.

"Fiona." The flour-dusted face of Marc appeared behind the bar. "Nous n'avons pas d'origan frais, je ne sais pas cuisiner ce soir, la nourriture Itailian. Nous avons les bons ingrédients pour cuisine… "

"Thailand?" Justin suggested. Although he and Brian had often ordered in Thai food, it didn't have the same connotations that those big family dinners had. Brian wasn't likely to react as badly, if at all. Thai was pretty safe, he figured… if it was on the menu, that is.

"Oui." Marc agreed. "Exactement. Ce soir nous sommes la Thaïlande."

Justin smiled. "Marc? Savez-vous faire des nouilles de sésame?"

"J'espère ainsi ." He said and returned dramatically to the kitchen.

"Could you explain to me," Fiona asked. "why that man doesn't know a word of English, but apparently _he_ understands what your problem is."

"Was." Justin corrected with a smile. "And I have no idea."

"You've certainly the _luck_ of the Irish." She shook her head. "I'll grant you that."

"Not last night." Justin reminded her.

"It didn't turn out so badly." She disagreed. "You were still speaking at the end of it."

"I got a little… snippy." Justin admitted. "I was worried – I couldn't help it."

"'Tis only a stepmother would blame you." She assured him. "It's forgotten, I'm sure."

"I hope so." Justin told her. "I just want everything to go smoothly until the project is finished. Then Brian can back to the states and I can afford to start school here. It'll be fine."

"What ever you say, luv." Fiona nodded. "Whatever you say."

_xxxx_

"Hey." Brian put down his portfolio and sat down at the table.

Justin looked up. "Hey."

"I see it's Thai night." Brian smiled. "Good timing."

"Do you like it?" Justin asked, as though he were surprised.

"Definitely." Brian informed him. "If they have Sesame noodles, then Fiona is my new Goddess."

"It's Marc, the chef, you should be worshipping." Justin informed him. "But I think you're in luck."

"Good." Brian gave a smile that it was impossible not to return. "Do you want to look this stuff over with me before we order?"

"Yeah." Justin agreed. "These tables don't have a lot of room."

"I'll say." Brian acknowledged, as he tried to spread out a few pictures.

"Hey – at least we have it to ourselves." Justin remarked as Andy came up to take their order.

"What do you mean?" Brian asked, having forgotten Delphine's explanation..

"It's that rot about the seating, right?" Andrew guessed.

"Yeah." Brian turned an eye to their waiter. "What gives?"

After a '_go on'_ signal from Justin, Andrew recounted Fiona's peculiar seating policies to an amused Brian. "No shit?" He was amazed people went along with it.

"Seriously." Justin said. "She's not kidding."

"Well…" Brian shrugged. "I guess it's kind of like that restaurant in Boston where they throw your cutlery on the table and the waitresses insult you. People will try anything different."

"Speaking of…" Andrew began his official duties. "You bastards ready to order?"

"Just drinks for now, Andy." Justin said. "Get me a draft of the usual."

"Don't spoil yourself for tonight." Andy reminded him and then addressed Brian. "What about you, mate?"

"The house red will be fine." Brian told him.

"Done." With that, Andrew put his pen in his pocket, then overturned and filled their water glasses, before heading to the bar.

"Plans with the boys tonight?" Brian asked casually.

"Just Martin's and maybe some dancing." Justin shrugged. "Nothing unusual."

"Sounds good." Brian nodded. Jesus… did he have to invite himself along on that too?

"Do you…I mean, you didn't want to come, did you?" He wondered if maybe Brian didn't know where to pick up outside of Paris.

"Would I have a good time?" Brian asked with a grin.

"There's plenty of guys, if that's what you mean." Justin told him. "I don't know your taste, of course," At this he submerged a smirk. Naturally, he knew all too well: tall, dark… and not him. "but there's a lot to choose from. The dance clubs are basically just Babylon in French, though."

"Ah." Brian had no idea what to say to this casually imparted information. The Justin he knew didn't usually suggest ways for Brian to get laid. It was as disconcerting now as it had been after last year's Pride march. It wasn't very Justin behaviour and Brian knew there was a clue in there somewhere, but damned if he could decipher it. "Well, we'll see how the evening shapes up."

Justin simply shrugged affably. He was determined to treat this situation as he'd demanded Brian do: Like they were simply new acquaintances with a common friend, who were temporarily working together. He found he kind of enjoyed thinking of it that way… it made the contact a hell of a lot easier.

Brian took Justin's sketch pad and began to flip backwards through it, already spotting several views that presented what he had in mind. They'd need to be re-done and stylized a bit, but over-all… it was what he had envisioned. "These are good." He commented, flipping through a few more. "I think you've captured what I'm looking for… we'll just need a lot more detail. Varying close ups… that kind of thing."

"I figured." Justin nodded. "Can I see your prints?"

"What?" Brian looked up startled from a sketch he'd just turned to. "Oh… sure." He handed Justin the photos he'd picked up this morning. He had, of course, removed the ones of Justin, but had been really pleased with how well they'd turned out. He had one in the corner of the mirror in his room at Gilles. It was one in which, because of the angle of light and Justin's expression, it appeared as though his face radiated pure sunshine. The moment had come and gone fleetingly and Brian simply had the good luck to catch it.

He was reasonably certain he wasn't meant to know that Justin had done some work from a live model too – the kid had likely just forgotten it was in here. The picture was stunning, however… and that's exactly how Brian felt while looking at it: stunned. He closed the book quickly, but maintained his composure. "You know what?" He said. "I'm going to get a proper case for these and you can keep them in that. They'll be passing through a lot of hands and I don't want mine to be the first ones to spill something on them, so maybe I should go over them again in a less messy environment."

"Okay." Justin's mind unwillingly reminded him of another occasion, where Brian had been much less concerned with sullying Justin's work. "Are you sure you really like them?" He tried not to sound as insecure as he felt. Apparently Brian's approval still meant something. Damn it.

"Yes." Brian tried to be convincing. He did like them… he was just a little thrown, that's all. "What's more important is that I think Michaud is going to like them."

Justin nodded. "Well… good."

The awkward bubble was burst by Andrew's arrival with their drinks. He waited until they put their work away, before placing the beverages in front of them. "You blokes want to order now?" He asked.

"Sorry, Andy." Justin apologized. "I know it's busy tonight… we just haven't had a chance to decide yet. Give us five, okay?"

"No worries." His friend replied.

Justin took a sip of his beer and both men looked at the chalkboard menu, though Justin had already been staring at it for the better part of an hour. "Know what you might like?' He asked.

Brian looked back at him, but didn't answer his question. "What is that?" He indicated the warm beverage in Justin's hand.

"Guinness."

"You actually drink that?" Brian was amazed. "On purpose? That stuff'll kill you."

"I know… I guess Fee kind of got me used to it." Justin made a face and laughed a little. "What can I tell you… I'm committing suicide on the installment plan."

Before Brian could comment, a beaming Fiona came up to their table. "Well now… look what I found."

Behind Fiona was Delphine Michaud and next to her, a good looking brunette whose arm around Del suggested boyfriend status. "Hi Brian." She greeted him.

Fiona rushed in. "We've found ourselves a bit full, and seeing as you are acquainted…I thought you might not mind sharing a table."

Barely sticking around for Brian's surprised, "Sure", a busy Fiona rushed back to the door to try finding places for the next batch of customers.

"Brian, this is Claude." She introduced them. Claude, Brian Kinney… I mentioned him to you… he works with my father."

"A pleasure, Monsieur Kinney." The young man stuck out his hand.

Delphine was right: the guy _was_ about five years younger than Brian. Being called mister by someone that close to his age was going to make him feel old. "Brian is fine… nice to meet you." He looked over and encountered the startled visage of his original dinner companion. "Del, Claude, this is Justin Taylor." Brian struggled for a neat explanation. "He's working on the project too, actually, and we were just finishing a little business." There. True and not too complicated.

"Ah good." Claude said, as Brian resumed his seat. "I was afraid we had …interrupted something."

"Not at all." Justin assured him quickly. A little too quickly for Brian's taste.

Delphine caught Brian's eye and though no verbal explanations could be made, she wisely said nothing and resolved to follow his lead. "Well, that's wonderful then, if you don't mind. Claude will be forced to make conversation in English. He speaks it very well, actually, but he won't practice with me."

And so began a very interesting meal, with all participants remaining slightly on edge; the sole exception being the oblivious Claude.

Brian's mantra all through dinner, aside from '_Please let this be over now_.' Was '_Thank God for Del_.' He didn't know what he would have done without the constant stream of innocuous topics she generated. He _did_ owe that girl some gossip – she'd earned it. The best part was that it hadn't even been obvious. If not for the little wink she gave him, even he might have missed it.

He approved of the boyfriend. Claude seemed nice, and quite bright as well. Brian was pleased for Del, because so far he couldn't find a thing wrong with the guy. After Del excused herself to the ladies room however, Brian had cause to reconsider his original opinion.

"So how long will you be in Montpellier?" Claude addressed Justin after a few moments conversation about the city.

"_Oh no…. please don't bring this up right now_." Brian begged silently. "_I haven't decided how to handle it yet."_

"I'm not sure." Justin responded, without risking a glance at Brian. "I'm looking into a couple of courses at the university."

"Excellent." Claude approved. "It's a very good school, although I'm surprised you didn't consider Paris first."

"I guess I just prefer living here." Was all the explanation Justin offered.

"Until recently I would not have though to leave Paris myself," Claude confided. "…but Delphine makes the move worth while."

At that moment the object of Claude's devotion returned to the table. "Did you order dessert?" She asked.

"Not yet, Cheri." Claude told her. "We fell to talking instead."

"About what?" She inquired teasingly. "What could possibly be more interesting than dessert?"

"Amour." He laughed and gave her a little kiss. "And the lengths to which one goes for it."

"I see." Delphine gave him a questioning glance. "And what was concluded?"

"That Claude likes you better than Paris." Brian informed her, tongue in cheek.

Delphine aped indignant. "Well, I should hope so."

Claude pretended to scold Brian, but his laughter gave him away. "You'll get me into trouble, mon ami."

"Oh, I think you're in plenty already." Justin joked.

"How is that?" Claude gave a confused smile.

"You think you're in love, don't you?" Justin reminded him.

"But, of course." Claude agreed. "I know it."

"Well, there you go." Justin shrugged, as though he'd summed it all up.

Claude nodded indulgently. "You'll feel differently when it happens to you, I'm sure."

Justin merely smiled good-naturedly and took another sip of his wine.

The next moment found Brian mentally retracting every kind thought he'd just had about Delphine.

"So you've never been in love, then." Delphine addressed Justin. "Well, there's plenty of time."

"I'm not worried about it." Justin gave her an amiable grin.

"_Since when?_" Brian asked himself, as he took a leaf from Justin's book… and kicked Delphine under the table.

"Worried or not, my friend…" Claude assured him. "It will find you. Mark my words."

"Maybe it already found him." Delphine said a little too casually, reaching down to surreptitiously rub her shin. "After all… what are you Justin? Twenty-one, or so?"

"Close enough." He nodded.

"That's only about five years younger than I am, and I'd been in love by the time I was that age." She revealed. "Or at least thought I was."

"See." Justin said, knowingly. "_Thought_ you were. Love can be an illusion."

Brian didn't know what to make of that. Whose love was Justin referring to? His own? The fiddlers? Brian was completely baffled. "And here I thought you artist types were all about the romance." He commented, somewhat acerbically.

"Being an artist doesn't necessarily make you less of a realist." Justin informed him tightly, and poured himself another glass of wine.

Delphine began to regret stirring this particular pot. She'd simply been a little curious and had decided to try out a theory. Big mistake. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd done, but she didn't think it was anything good. Brian probably should've kicked her harder.

For his part, Brian felt unaccountably annoyed. Jesus… had the kid undergone a personality transplant? There was virtually nothing for him to work with here. He wasn't sure he knew this Justin at all. "So you're a realist… about love at least, by the ripe old age of…. twenty-one, was it?" Brian recalled when Justin had first claimed that age.

"I like to stay ahead of the curve." Was all Justin replied, refusing to be baited.

"Dessert all 'round is it?" Andrew chose that moment to reappear. "We've just the two choices, but they're equally good."

"You had them both for dinner, didn't you." Justin laughed, shaking his head at his friend and grateful for the distraction.

"Life is uncertain." Andrew quoted. "Eat dessert first."

"Excellent advice." Delphine proclaimed. "We've already had dinner, but I say we order some anyway."

"It's never too late for dessert." Justin agreed.

Everyone ordered, including Brian, although his mind wasn't on it. Not that it would have mattered, since he'd temporarily thrown out most of his rules from home… including the ones about food.

"Cake again?" Justin asked, momentarily forgetting who he was supposed to be. "What happened to no fat after seven?"

"Pittsburgh rules don't apply in France." Brian replied, not registering the slip.

Claude was puzzled by Justin's remark. "I thought you two had only recently met?"

Brian covered quickly, not wishing to open that can of worms… he'd never get them all back in. "Actually, we have a mutual friend at home."

"What a small world." Claude commented. "And how funny that you should have to leave… Pittsburgh, was it… to know one another." Claude returned himself to his dessert, unconscious of the deeper meaning in his words.

They managed to get through the remainder of the meal without further awkwardness. Del gave Brian a face that indicated her remorse and said she'd speak to him later. She and Claude had a movie to catch and were on their way soon after dessert, Delphine only allowing Brian to pay after he promised with a grin that he was expensing the meal to her father.

Andrew cleared the table of all but the mostly empty wine bottle, and the two men sat there in mutually agreeable silence for awhile.

Justin finally spoke. "They seem like a nice couple."

"According to you it won't last." Brian observed mildly.

"That's not exactly what I said." Justin disagreed, resisting the temptation to elaborate.

"That's what it sounded like." Brian told him, unable to leave it alone.

"Well, it's not what I meant." Justin said with finality.

"Then what did you mean?"

"Nothing." Justin tried to get him to drop it. This conversation was making him uncomfortable and was certainly making it difficult to stay in character, as it were.

"You seemed to have some very strong opinions about it for someone who didn't mean anything by it." Brian noted. "Have you ever even _been_ in a relationship?" He knew he was taking his chances here, but he was pretty sure he had an out.

Justin shot him a warning look. "That's a little personal, Brian"

"I was just making conversation." The man defended himself.

"We don't know each well enough for that kind of conversation, in case you forgot."

Brian seemingly ignored him, and after a brief pause asked. "Does Andy have a girlfriend at home?"

Justin was confused by the abrupt change of subject. "No."

Brian nodded, then continued. "Is your other friend out to his family?"

"Yeah, but…"

"When did he come out?"

"Last year. Why do you…"

"Fiona have any kids?"

"No, she doesn't. What does that have to do with…"

"Just… one more." Brian asked his indulgence. "How did you come by all this information?"

Justin was becoming increasingly confused. How much wine had the guy had, anyway. "What do you mean how did I get it? We were just hanging out and stuff came up."

"Uh huh." Brian leaned back in his chair with the satisfaction of a man who'd made his case.

Fiona was right… Brian was crafty. "Oh, so that's _your_ idea of casual conversation?" Justin demanded. "Because you're the sort of guy who's always forthcoming with the personal information, are you?"

"Not exactly." Brian squirmed a little, but it wasn't as obvious as he feared.

"No." Justin folded his arms. "I didn't think so, Mr… Pot, was it?"

"Very droll." He smirked. "And anyway… what's the harm in a little personal conversation?"

"Nothing." Justin acknowledged. "As long as it isn't about me."

"Now that's hardly fair." Brian attempted some levity. "Given how I bared my soul about the cows."

Justin couldn't help the tiny smile that emerged at the thought of that story. "If I had any anecdotes involving barnyard animals, I'd share." His expression became serious again. "Why the interest?"

Brian looked up. "Well… I like to know who I'm working with, and it's one way of staving off boredom." He hadn't meant to admit the last bit.

"Now _that _part_,_ I believe." Justin laughed. "Although I do have a hard time imagining you actually give a shit about the private lives of people you work with."

"What makes you say that?" Brian was defensive, even though it was true.

"Because I can't imagine that someone as focused as you are would consider it necessary to know the gory details about his co-worker just to be able to lie effectively to the American public."

Brian had no comment immediately available and Justin wondered if he'd actually managed to offend the guy.

"_Lying_ might be a bit harsh." Brian finally said.

"Don't feel bad, Brian" Justin told him. ""Everybody lies, but it doesn't matter …since nobody listens."

"Jesus." Brian shook his head. "How did you get to be so cynical?"

"Practice." Justin looked him right in the eye. "Still interested in a heart to heart?"

Brian was getting frustrated in the extreme. "Christ, are you this defensive all the time?"

Justin looked at him in amusement. "Again I refer to the pot and kettle commentary of earlier." He said. "Because you don't strike me as the epitome of openness either."

"How would you know?" Brian was triumphant. "You don't know anything about me."

Touché. Justin had to admit that Brian had him there. "Enlighten me." He suggested.

"What?" Brian was confused.

"Tell me about yourself." Justin elaborated.

Brian hesitated. This was not familiar territory and he didn't see a map anywhere. Well… here goes. "I don't know… I grew up in Pittsburgh, did okay in school and ended up with a partial scholarship to Penn State… advertising was a money maker and…am I boring you?" He asked indignantly as Justin gave an exaggerated yawn in the middle of the recital.

"To death." Justin confirmed. "I meant something relevant. Something …about your family maybe."

Brian was silently absorbed in his hands for a moment, then blurted out. "I hated my father."

Justin simply looked at him calmly. "Ok."

Brian looked back up and then almost whispered. "That's not exactly true." He amended. "I just… wish that I did."

Justin nodded, aware that the older man was being honest. "Fair enough."

"Do you get along with yours?" Brian asked, hoping this was to be quid pro quo.

"No." Justin dropped his gaze. "But I don't hate him either."

"Wish you did?"

"I'm not sure." Justin confessed. "Sometimes."

"Fair enough." Brian risked a small smile, then asked. "What's his problem?"

"Hates the fact that I'm gay, mostly." Justin shrugged. "Yours?"

"Just… hated the fact that I was. Period." Brian explained. "Wasn't much of a family man."

"Mine was." Justin volunteered. "Only it had to be the picture of a family he had in his head. Which, apparently, didn't include a gay son with an older lover."

Brian cocked an eyebrow at the slip. Justin was finding this arrangement harder than he was it would seem. Well… he'd brought it up himself… he could hardly fault Brian. "Older lover, huh? Not the sort of thing that had dear old Dad adding to your share of the will, I guess."

As soon as the words were out his mouth, Justin would've given anything to cram them back in, but Brian seemed rather neutral and Justin thought perhaps the man might let him off the hook. "No. I don't suppose it did. In fact, I'm sure I'm out of it now."

"You'll make your own fortune." Brian assured him with a shrug. "You're too good not to."

"Thanks." Justin gave a genuine smile that very nearly deterred Brian from his next course of action… but not quite.

"So… an admired of older men, are we?" Brian kept his tone deliberately light.

"An admirer of men. Period." Justin mimicked Brian's statement of earlier.

"Not together anymore, I assume." Brian commented, barely able to keep a calm face.

"No." Justin said shortly. "It didn't work out."

"That's too bad." Brian offered.

Justin looked out the window. "Well, he didn't think so and I'm over it… so it's kind of a moot point."

"How do you know?"

"What?"

"How do you know he didn't think it was too bad?"

Justin wondered why Brian felt it necessary to do this, but told the truth. "Because he said he didn't care."

"He did?" Brian asked, in a disbelieving tone. He'd said no such thing. Well… not in the last year, anyway.

"All right." Justin shook his head. "It was implied."

"Ah." Brian made an understanding noise. "It sounds like you were jumping to conclusions."

"I didn't jump to conclusions." Justin snapped. "I took a little step and the conclusions were right there."

"Okay." Brian raised his hands in a gesture of capitulation. "And that was your only stab at love, was it?" He had to ask.

"I don't believe in love." Justin turned back to the window. "I believe, among other things, in fucking." He faced Brian again. "A wise man once told me that it has in it's favor, getting in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. I am no longer a big bullshit fan."

"Who's bullshitting?" Andrew reappeared at the table, untying his apron.

Good question, both men thought, but said nothing.

"Well?" Andrew asked, looking from one to the other. "We going drinking or what?"

An emphatic "yes" was heard from each.

**Death – XIII**: Don't panic: The Death card does not mean physical death. It's about transformation, transition, rebirth and permanent change. This revitalizing force sweeps away the old to make way for the new. The change symbolized by Death is permanent: You go through a door and it slams shut behind you forever.

In the Tarot, as in reality, Death is nothing more than a transition to the next level of life. Whether you believe that a soul goes to heaven or back to Earth to be reincarnated, the fact remains that the soul lives on. The candle is extinguished, but only because the day has come. The river shown on many versions of the Death card is a symbol, showing that life will go on, no matter what disastrous things happen. The river water will reach the sea, rise into the clouds, then rain onto the land to flow into the river again. Nothing is destroyed, because nothing can be destroyed - there can be only transformation.

**In a reading**: Are you afraid of the future? Do you have a compulsion to cling to the old ways of doing things no matter what the cost? If so, expect a complete turnaround. Superficial changes aren't enough now; the old situation must be turned inside out. You enter a period where you become who you are , not who you think you ought to be.

The only real reason the transformation shown by Death is so catastrophic is because it is being held back, fought against by those too afraid to realize that change is beneficial. Every change happens for a reason, and Death is a force like Justice in that it is absolutely fair. It does not discriminate against one group and spare another - everyone is equal in the eyes of Death. So if big changes are happening in your life it is certainly plausible that you are the reason for them. There's no point fighting death, it only makes things worse. Like the Hanged Man, accept that change happens and let it do what it must.

When the Death card appears, big changes are heading your way. Usually this change refers to something in your lifestyle; an old attitude or perspective is no longer useful and you have to let go of it. While the Hanged Man was a card of voluntary sacrifice, the Death card is a forced sacrifice - but that does not mean that it is not for your own good. Sometimes you cannot see how your attitudes are hurting you, and when that is true, the Death card is your wake-up call.

**A/N: Things are starting to get heavy, kids. I do hope you'll hang on for the ride and please. Pretty please, drop a line to let me know you're out there. My supreme gratitude to the kind folks who've already done so; you make my day!**


	16. Temperance

Due to their late start, it had been decided to skip Martin's and head right to La Bodega. It was here that they'd been leaning against the bar in virtual silence for the last half hour or so, listening to dance music and watching Cal and Andy make the rounds - Cal having significantly more luck than his room-mate, naturally. Not that Andrew didn't have any at all.

"See that tall dark-haired guy over there?" He asked, as he came up to the bar for a refill, followed by an equally cocktail-free Cal.

"The one with the chiseled chin and the great pecs"? Justin clarified, "Yeah – so what? Don't tell me you're trying to set me up now?"

"Not hardly." Andrew scoffed. "The only help _you_ need is finding a guy you haven't fucked yet, ya slut. No …" He began proudly. "I think he hit on me."

Justin simply looked at him, waiting for the joke and when no punch line was forthcoming, said. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say… _what_?"

"Seriously." Andrew nodded enthusiastically. "He hit on me – I'm sure of it."

"Really?" Justin was still mildly annoyed by the slut comment. "Gee Andy, that'd be cool, if you weren't so… hello … _straight_!"

"Hey… a hottie hitting on you, is a hottie hitting on you." Andrew insisted. "_That _ is a compliment that transcends sexual orientation."

Justin simply stared at him a moment, then said. "You really scare me sometimes, you know that?"

Andrew merely grinned, grabbed his drink and set off in search of wavering lesbians, while Cal smiled at them both and shrugged, wandering off after a good looking redhead.

Brian turned to Justin, eyebrow raised, and finally spoke. "Your friend Andy is a little … strange."

"Really." Justin treated Brian to the same look Andrew had just received and then snarked. "You think?"

He didn't mean to be so short tempered, but dinner had taken a lot out of him and Justin was feeling a little depleted. Naturally, that made him even more vigilant when it came to staying on guard against Brian.

Brian, to his credit, appeared undaunted - and after a moment, persisted in conversation - however unwisely. "So… you're friends with some straight guy – who would've thought."

Justin was immediately defensive. "What's the big deal?"

"Nothing." Brian was quick to say. "I just wouldn't imagine you two have a lot in common, that's all."

"Because he doesn't suck cock?" Justin was still annoyed. "We just like to hangout."

"So what _do_ you guys talk about?"

Justin looked at him and said sarcastically. "Oh, you know… sports, chicks, monster truck rallies..."

Brian looked away. "Okay, so don't tell me. No need to be a smart ass."

"You know, Brian…"Justin appraised him. "For a brilliant guy you have very limited vision sometimes."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The older man couldn't decide whether to be flattered or insulted.

"It means that you seem to need everything to be black and white, all or nothing…"

"Gay or straight…I get it." Brian informed him. "So you're of telling me he's bi?"

Justin heaved a frustrated sigh." Fuck… nevermind."

"I was kidding." Brian nudged him with his elbow. "Lighten up, Sunshine."

"Don't call me that, please." Justin's jaw twitched.

He watched the young man's face flush. But with what…annoyance, or something else…Brian wasn't sure. He let it go however.

Cal came back just then and clinked his glass against Justin's. "Cheers mate – finally found one you haven't got to yet."

Brian observed that this seemed to be a common discourse between the two because Justin smiled at his friend and replied. "Is that so."

"Coming with?" Cal asked with a grin.

Justin was grateful for any escape at that point. "You're on." And without a word to Brian, he put down his drink and followed Cal.

Brian watched them begin to dance with the man that Cal had been following earlier. There was no real touching going on, but there was some definite sexual tension being built up. Brian was feeling tension of another kind, however and struggling not to show it. He had no claim on the kid by any stretch of the imagination; he knew that. But that didn't keep him from feeling like he did.

"Oh bloody hell…" Andrew, glass empty already, had returned from his cruising with nary a lesbian, or a fag for that matter, to show for it. "They're at it again, are they?"

"At what, exactly?" Brian asked him.

"One of their little games… what else." Andrew told him as he waved the bartender over. "All gay mates don't play them?"

"Depends on the game I guess." Brian responded tersely.

"This one's pretty simple." Andrew elaborated. "One of them picks a hot guy and challenges the other to try stealing him away."

"Who usually wins?" Brian needed to know.

"Justin." Andrew confirmed. "But Cal never gets pissed. After the way Justin treats them, they're pretty grateful for Cal's attention the next time, and they make it up to him pretty well." Then he added as an afterthought. "Apparently the kissing thing bugs some of them and they bail early, so that counts as a default. But given J's reputation, most of them overlook it."

"Kissing thing?"

Andrew paid for his drink and nodded. "Doesn't care for it much, I guess. Cal says it's… quote…"_a fucking waste of great lips_"… end-quote. But not being so inclined … I'll have to take his word for it."

"Naturally." Brian grimaced. God save him from the straights… well, with a few exceptions.

So… Justin was fucking everything that moved with no repeats, but he wasn't kissing them. Interesting. The knowledge of this little detail was small consolation as Brian watched the blond bump and grind with that Neanderthal who wasn't remotely worthy of him. His inner voice, ever the cynic, wanted to know why Brian had suddenly decided that he was. He didn't have an answer to that. Not yet, anyway.

"Hey." Andrew nudged him. "Here comes that guy again… the one that hit on me."

Brian rolled his eyes, but had to admit that at least Andrew had decent taste – the guy _was_ hot.

The brunette walked right up to Brian. "Voulez-vous danser?" He asked with a leer.

Brian smirked at Andrew. Well, at least there was some pride recovery to be had, although he didn't know how great he felt beating out a straight guy – even a cute one. "Is there a prize for winning this game?" He asked Andrew dryly, as he put down his drink.

"I guess you'll tell me, mate." Andrew made a face and raised his glass. "Have a good time."

Brian followed the tall trick to the floor and tried concentrating on him, instead of the mounting jealousy he could feel every time he risked a glance at Justin. It seemed that Cal had either conceded already or outright lost because Justin and the man were now dancing alone. Brian didn't need to see that, so he focused on the hard-on grinding into his leg, instead. Fine… if Justin was going to be fucking himself stupid tonight, then Brian Kinney was hardly going to remain a wallflower. He pulled the trick from the dance floor and looked back one more time in an attempt to decide if this was really a good idea. He couldn't see Justin anymore…or his dance partner, so Brian headed out the door, trick in tow.

_xxxx_

Three days later Brian was certain it hadn't been a very good idea, since he felt unaccountably strange approaching Justin. It annoyed him no end, so when Gilles arrived from Paris that morning, Brian decided it was time to bite the bullet and see the kid. They were, after all, working together, however temporarily, and Brian had not broken any of the rules yet. Cool would be the way to play it. What he hadn't counted on was Gilles wanting to meet Justin and chat with him about the project. Since Justin had no phone that Brian knew of, he decided a sneak attack at Fiona's might be the best bet.

Gilles' presence might, in fact turn out to be an asset, since Brian didn't think Justin's good manners would allow him to be rude in front of a stranger. Not that he had cause to be, but Brian had a feeling that this would not be an especially amiable encounter. Particularly since he needed to ask the artist to return to Paris with them.

Gilles interrupted Brian's thoughts, as they approached their destination. "I have not eaten at the café since Delphine dragged me there some time ago." He volunteered. "I must confess, I found the food to be most pleasing, but you mustn't tell Delphine I said so. It's more fun for her to think I … humor her, was the expression, I believe."

"Not a problem." Brian promised him.

"And I believe I have _your_ situation in hand." Gilles told him. "You know one another through a mutual friend, and the young man wishes to keep it a fairly business oriented relationship, no?"

"Right." Brian confirmed. "It's just easier that way, but I think you'll be pleased with his sketches – they are exactly what we talked about… simple, but recognizable. I'm still very happy with the concept."

"As am I, Brian." Gilles praised. "The copy I've received from you in Paris is commendable and I am astonished that you actually have us ahead of schedule again rather than behind. You, my friend, are a miracle worker."

Brian didn't know about that, but he had certainly busted his ass when it came to organizing the campaign. What else was there to throw himself into while waiting to see Justin, and yet keep his mind from dwelling on the kid too much. Work, as always, had saved him. Of course it hadn't hurt that the wheels were already set in motion re booking space and where to pitch. All he'd been waiting on was the concept – and now the artist to draw it.

He hadn't seen Gilles until this morning and the short phone calls to the office had always been work centered. While finally chatting in person a few hours ago, he briefly explained the situation with Justin and asked Michaud's indulgence. Gilles appeared unfazed, however, and had simply been pleased by the amount of progress.

Brian acknowledged the man's miracle compliment with a slight smile and inquired. "Did legal have anything else for us on the name?'

"Nothing." Gilles shook his head. "All is in order."

"We're close, then." Brian smiled. "We get the sketches revised, into production, and then start filming the commercial spots. Might as well do it soon while everything is so green."

"Not to worry Brian." Gilles told him as they pulled up to Café Fiona. "We might get some cold, but we stay pretty green most of the year. It might be advantageous to start filming now, however, as it might save you a later trip."

"Not that I mind returning, but you're probably right." Brian agreed while stepping out of the door that Bernard now held open. "I'll look into that immediately unless you already have an idea who you'd like to use." He looked at Gilles expectantly as they made their way through the door.

"No; I prefer you handle it, since I haven't had the opportunity to become familiar with that industry."

"Done." Brian said as he scanned the restaurant. "On Monday morning I'll…"

"Back again, are ya?" The caustic question came from the hostess, as she approached them in a huff, having really only registered Brian.

Both men wondered which of them she was speaking to, but Brian decided it was more likely to be him and replied. "We're here for an early dinner… and to talk to Justin."

"Hmpphh." Came the indignant response. "Well if you've a mind to make matters worse, I don't see how _that's_ possible."

"What are you talking about?" Brian asked. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, innocent as a lamb, he is." Fiona addressed the heavens and then turned her attention back to Brian. "You don't fool me a mite. I don't know what you did, but I know well enough what the result is…"

"Fiona, I don't understand." Brian almost pleaded, while sparing a quick glance at Gilles, to see how he was taking all this. In stride as usual apparently, because the only discernible expression on Gilles' face was one of confused amusement. "What happened?" Brian was now getting a little concerned.

"And that's exactly what _I'd_ like to know." She told him, calming down just a little, having now noted Gilles Michaud's presence as well. "When you came for supper the other night, I seated you with a perfectly pleasant supper companion… did I not?"

"Okaaay..." Brian was still confused.

"And the next day you send me back a sullen slip of a lad who'll barely speak a word… except to order his weight in alcohol, and who runs all through the wee hours when most decent folk are abed. Not that he sleeps a wink for all that, I'm sure – not by the look of him. Now, what I want to know is: what did you do to him?"

"Nothing." Brian insisted. "Where is he?"

"Oh… and I look as though I just came down with the last rainfall, do I?" She said sarcastically. "It isn't likely I'd tell you."

"Fiona." Brian pinched his nose to ward off the oncoming headache and tried to be reasonable. "I do need to talk to him… and he still hasn't met Monsieur Michaud. It's business; could you just tell me where he is, please?"

Fiona sighed heavily and debated the matter.

"My dear lady…" Gilles, ever the diplomat, broke in. "I would ask, if only on my behalf, that you allow Monsieur Kinney to make amends for whatever… indiscretion may have soured the disposition of our - very necessary – I assure you, artist."

"Well…" Fiona seemed to be wavering. "As I said, I suppose you can't make it any worse." She smiled at Gilles a moment then returned her scowl to Brian. "All right - he's down at the church doing a bit of sketching. Said he'd be there all afternoon. But mind you behave yourself, or…" She gathered herself up a bit. "…may the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind illegitimate children chase you so far over the hills of Damnation, that the Lord himself can't find you with a telescope!"

Gilles stifled a laugh. "I'm sure so dire a threat is unnecessary, as I feel certain Brian would never jeopardize our campaign with rash behaviour."

"And I'm certain he already has." Fiona retorted. "But let's us never mind about him and his rashes. Come and have a drink with me, while this one sorts it out." She took Gilles' arm and led him away, but her last gaze at Brian reiterated her rebukes. Before leaving, the man afforded himself a brief moment of enjoyment over the slight blush Gilles was sporting. He couldn't wait to tell Del - assuming he survived Fiona's curse, that is.

"I'll make my way back to the house later, Gilles." He said as he left. "I'll see you there."

Fiona had already monopolized his client, but Gilles managed a wave and Brian could swear the man mouthed the words "Bonne chance." Good luck. Right. Let's hope he wouldn't need it.

_xxxx_

"Pretend to read any good books lately?" Brian asked, as he sat down at the table uninvited. After a quick circuit of the church, he'd seen Justin sitting at an outdoor café bordering the church square. The kid had a book in front of him, but in the ten minutes that Brian had surreptitiously observed him, Justin hadn't turned a single page. Apparently it was another habit the young man had picked up from Brian, or shared with him at least, since, on occasion he too used reading material as a shield.

Justin looked up, vaguely annoyed, but hardly surprised. He knew they'd have to talk sooner or later, if only to discuss the sketches he'd sent over. "Actually, I happen to be very engrossed."

"Yeah – the thousand yard stare really helped sell that." Brian put his tongue in his cheek and waved over a waiter. "Feeling a little under the weather, are we?"

"Just tired." Justin told him.

"I see." Brian nodded. "Your surrogate mother seems to think that's _my_ fault – any idea why?"

"I told you before..." Justin shrugged. "She's Irish – they're all crazy."

Brian laughed a little, thinking insanity might explain a lot about him right now. "Can't say that I disagree with you, Su…. so….tired, huh?" Brian recovered. "What's got you missing so much sleep?"

"Busy, I guess." Justin hedged.

"Well you look like hell." Brian informed him dispassionately.

"Thanks." Justin snapped. "I just got back."

"Oh?"

The young blond shook his head, regretting saying anything. "Just… German tourists hovering all afternoon and making it impossible to get anything done. One of them fancied himself an art critic."

Brian grimaced in sympathy. "Ah. Sorry to hear that."

Justin merely shrugged again and looked away as Brian gave his drink order.

"If it's any consolation… Michaud is going to love the sketches you had messengered to me." Brian turned his attention back to Justin and tried to sound encouraging. "You filled them in a bit more, didn't you."

"Yeah." Justin confirmed, surprised that Brian had noticed. But then – this was about work – of course he noticed. "I hope that was all right."

"Definitely." Brian agreed. "I'm sure you can imagine there are still changes to be made, but that's partly why I took the stills – so you'd have something else to work from."

Justin simply nodded.

Brian was starting to become annoyed. This conversation was proving very difficult and he was certainly no closer to getting Justin to the Paris office. He'd have to find some way to bring it up, though. For now, since things were already awkward and because he simply couldn't help himself, he asked. "Kind of lost track of you Wednesday… have a good night?"

Justin offered his third shrug of the conversation. "It was all right."

"From where I was standing it looked like it was shaping up to be better than all right." Brian pointed out. "How was he?"

"I don't know." Justin finally admitted. "I ditched him."

Brian found himself pleasantly surprised, but unwilling to show it. "What for?" He asked, striving for a tone that conveyed no more than idle curiosity.

"Let me put it this way." Justin told him. "If that guy is anything to go by… Darwin was right." It was true, but that hadn't been the true deterrent. The actual deterrent had been Brian, and the fact that it was impossible to pretend to be fucking him… when he'd actually just spent the whole evening with him. Shouldn't that have made it easier? It didn't though; it just made it weird… er.

Not really an admirer of the hirsute look himself, Brian sympathized. "Bummer." Sort of.

"I doubt you ended up with that problem though, given the guy I saw you with." Justin commented. "So …how was he?' He mimicked sarcastically.

"I don't know." Brian said deliberately, deciding two could play at that game. "I _ditched_ him."

Justin was genuinely surprised. "Why?"

"Didn't feel like it, I guess." Brian said, nonchalantly.

Justin simply stared at him for a few moments until the older man became uncomfortable. "What?" Brian asked, vaguely wondering if something was hanging out his nose.

"They did a good job." Justin offered finally.

"Who did?"

"The aliens." Justin clarified. "You look exactly like him."

"Very droll." Brian made a face. "I don't go around fucking _everyone_, you know."

"Since when?" Justin's expression demonstrated his disbelief and he laughed. "Brian, if sex were take out there'd be an arch over your bed."

"What would you know about it, anyway?" Brian pointed out, crossly.

"Let's just say your reputation precedes you." Justin assured him, recovering himself slightly.

Though he couldn't really argue, Brian hated to be portrayed as he really was for some reason. And he was defensive, despite the truth of Justin's comments. "I'll have you know I was in a committed relationship once." He blurted, without thinking.

"Oh really?" Justin asked, feigning surprise. "And who ended up getting committed."

"Ha ha." Brian narrowed his eyes. He was a little surprised at the turn the discussion had taken, but what the hell – might as well see where it flowed next. "You don't believe me?" He asked, lost in the surreal conversation.

"Believe what exactly?"

"That I had a… boyfriend."

"I guess anything's possible." Justin conceded, intrigued at having the tables from Wednesday night's dinner turned. "What happened?"

Brian considered this and took a gulp of his wine. "I'm not really sure." He confessed after a moment. "I guess you were right… I'm not exactly boyfriend material."

Justin heard the sincerity and didn't know what to make of it. "Maybe _he_ wasn't." He suggested, deciding for some reason that Brian shouldn't blame himself.

"Maybe." Brian said, his skepticism apparent. "But I don't think that was the problem."

"Ah.." Justin said sagely. "So, there were problems."

"Apparently." Now it was Brian's turn to shrug as he cursed the very idea of going with the flow. This conversational river flowed directly into an ocean of trouble, he was sure of it. Oh well… at least Justin was talking. "I guess you had your share of those too."

Justin raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"You did say you'd broken up with someone recently too." Brian reminded him.

"Oh." Justin recalled the uncomfortable conversation again. "Right. Well… it happens."

"What did… happen_…_ exactly?" Brian couldn't quite pull off casual and he knew it – but he also couldn't help asking.

Justin scrutinized the older man to determine what he was up to. Probably some kind of mind game as usual, but so what – it's not as though Justin was to see him for much longer. "I guess you could call it my fault." He admitted. "I got a little… I don't know if confused is the right word, but…" Justin paused and signaled the waiter by holding up his glass and two fingers. He turned back to Brian. "If you're really interested in the whole sordid story then we're going to need _a lot_ more alcohol."

"Maybe you shouldn't drink so much." Brian suggested mildly, remembering what Fiona had said.

"Maybe I shouldn't breathe so much either." Justin countered. "Besides… we don't get good cable here, so we tend to make our own fun. And anyway…" he continued as their drinks were set before them. "…we were talking about problems, and according to Humphrey Bogart, the problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind." With that Justin took a swig of his in an attempt to catch up.

"So… " Brian prompted after a moment. "You were…confused, but not exactly."

Justin sighed, having no idea where to start or why he should bother. "I was… I guess I was tired."

"Of him." Brian's tone was neutral, but his heart sank.

"Yes. No." Justin shook his head. "No – just tired, in general. All the time."

"What..." Brian was confused. "… he kept you up fucking 'til all hours?"

"Well, yeah…" Justin laughed a little. "But that wasn't a problem. That was never a problem." His cheeks colored a little and he took another sip, sure that a few more would make this a more comfortable conversation, but willing to carry on as long as Brian could. "I just.. one day I just kind of thought… you know - how come I have to be the one sitting around, analyzing him in microscopic detail and he gets to be the one with more important stuff on his mind?"

"Microscopic detail?" Brian raised a brow.

"He was complicated…" Justin explained. "…you had to watch your step."

"I see." Brian nodded. "And you got tired of figuring him out."

"No…" Justin disagreed. "I didn't. I just got tired of no one trying to figure me out. What would make me happy."

"So, why didn't you tell him that?" Brian asked. "Ask for…" He paused, not sure what Justin could have asked for – and gotten.

"He wasn't the kind of guy you could ask for shit like that." Justin interrupted and waved for another drink. "Well, you could – but it wouldn't be a great idea."

"Why not?"

Justin looked at Brian as though the man had grown another head. "Well, 'cause I never knew if he was gonna say _okay_, or if he'd laugh in my face and pull out my still-beating heart, and crush it into the ground with his heel as he fucks someone else." With that Justin defiantly threw back the rest of his drink.

Brian was startled. Had Justin really felt that way? "Christ, if it was that bad why were you with him at all?"

"That might be a slight exaggeration." Justin softened a little. "Most of the time I was happy… in a miserable kind of way."

"Is that worse than being miserable in a happy kind of way?" Brian noted that he had been right – this was a conversational catastrophe all right. "Well… I guess you were right to leave him, then."

"I didn't say I left him." Justin corrected.

Brian refused to be the one who screwed up the deal, despite how shredded he felt by Justin's revelations. "I just assumed a smart boy like you would get out of that mess and find yourself someone who'd appreciate you." He covered his error.

"I did." Justin conceded. "But… I should have got out of _the mess_ first."

"Ah." Brian said. "This would be where the confusion comes in."

"I guess." Justin looked away, wondering where his next drink was. "I didn't really belong with the guy I left with. He was… a decent guy, and it wasn't very nice of me to use him like that." Justin looked back at Brian as though the man could give him absolution. "But at the time I honestly didn't realize that's what I was doing."

"So you're not with him either." Brian confirmed, even though he already knew.

"No." Justin looked back down at his drink again. "But we're friends… and he doesn't seem to be holding it against me."

"That's good, isn't it?" This was strange in the extreme. They were actually talking about this stuff as though neither of them had the entire history tattooed on their hearts. The strange part was that it felt so normal. And so much easier than _really_ talking about it. Obviously Justin found it so too.

"Yeah… it is good." Justin agreed. "Last I heard, he even found a new boyfriend."

"Ah yes." Brian nodded. "There's always another boy."

Justin sipped his drink, determined to make this one last, since the buzz was creeping up pretty fast and this discussion was making him feel drunk already. Then he asked without looking up. "Did you?" He tried to raise his eyes. "Find another boy?"

Brian regarded him calmly. "I didn't look."

"Oh." Justin said, thinking he understood. "Right. Not exactly boyfriend material. I forgot."

"Mmm." Brian remained noncommittal.

"What did you do it for, then?" Justin asked suddenly, knowing there'd be no answer that would make him happy, but figuring it couldn't hurt to ask. Much.

"I …really don't know." Brian was as honest as he felt he could be. "I just… wanted to."

"Sort of an experiment, then." Justin surmised.

"Jesus." Brian resented the implication. "He wasn't a guinea pig."

"Then what was he?" Justin persisted. "Come on… I spilled."

"He was…" Brian felt trapped. "…he was the best sex I think I've ever had." He could admit that much. Maybe Justin would know what he meant. Would know _why_ it was the best. He smiled, trying to lighten things up again, feeling like the seriousness was weighing him down. "And he had the best ass I've ever seen. Bar none."

Surprisingly, Justin laughed. "That's something, I guess." He didn't feel bitter exactly…since he'd expected no answer at all – or possibly one that hurt. This one didn't exactly warm his heart, but it didn't break it again either.

Brian grinned outright. "Oh.. it was something all right. Trust me."

Justin shook his head and smiled indulgently. "What a romantic." He knew Brian couldn't hold a serious conversation; not even with a stranger, which, the more Justin talked with him, the more of one he felt like. Not necessarily in a bad way though. He also felt good enough to at least return the compliment. "I bet my ex is hotter than yours." He teased.

"Don't be too sure." Brian told him. "I have very good taste."

"Mine had pretty eyes." Justin bragged.

"Oh yeah?" Brian asked. "What color?"

"Usually hazel, but it depended on how he felt."

"Sounds like a moody fucker." Brian said. "You're well rid of him."

"I guess." Justin took a drink and looked away.

Brian wasn't sure if he was being dismissed or if there was something else going on. "Mine had nice eyes too." He offered

Justin looked back and gave a slight smile. "Oh yeah? What color?"

"Blue." Brian said softly.

"Pfff." Justin scoffed. "Sounds boring."

"They weren't though." Brian contradicted. "They were… beautiful."

Justin blushed and said nothing. He was pretty sure he must have had more to drink than he thought, since he'd obviously begun to hallucinate.

Brian shook off the solemn mood and gave himself a mental kick. If he didn't watch it, he was going to blow their deal and Justin would walk. And that wouldn't get Brian anywhere he wanted to go. Speaking of which…. he cleared his throat. "Listen… I came to find you because Gilles arrived in town today, and he wants to meet you."

Justin was almost grateful for the subject change and certainly not surprised, so he went along. "When?"

"We had been planning on tonight."

"God, I wish you'd mentioned that a couple drinks ago." Justin was nervous – he'd come to hear a lot about Gilles Michaud and the man sounded impressive.

Brian reassured him. "He just wants to talk about your sketches and frankly, we're both hoping you can come back to Paris with us tomorrow and do some work there."

Justin looked over abruptly. "You're leaving town?"

Brian hoped he'd heard a note of disappointment in that tone, but didn't want to count on it. "I have to go back for a few days, yeah. Some stuff I really can't do from here."

"Oh." Justin nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

"I try." Brian smiled. "So – can you swing it? I mean… you mentioned you wanted to go soon anyway, so if you could arrange to go now, it would really help us keep ahead of schedule."

"Well, for what you're paying me, I guess I'm at your beck and call."

"Not at all." Brian frowned a little – hoping that wasn't the only reason the kid would want to come. "If you can't, we'll work out something else."

"It's okay." Justin assured him. "I can go."

"Good." Brian said. "I'll arrange a room for you; on the company dime, of course."

"Thanks."

Brian took a sip of his drink and asked slyly. "Are you really prepared to be at my beck and call?"

"Within reason." Justin narrowed his eyes a little. "When it comes to work."

"Well, it's work related." Brian said.

Justin simply raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Come back to the house with me." Brian requested. "You can still meet Gilles tonight in a relaxed setting, instead of tomorrow on the train."

"I guess that'd be okay." Justin considered it. "I'm not exactly dressed for meeting big wigs, though."

"Jeans are fine." Brian assured him. "He's very laid back."

"Okay then." Justin agreed. "If you're sure."

Brian was sure all right. Not that it would be easier for Justin and Gilles to meet tonight, but that he wasn't ready to leave the kid's company yet. He pulled out his cell and called for the car.

_xxxx_

Eight o'clock found them still firmly ensconced in Michaud's den, with no Gilles yet. Brian had made them eggs for dinner since it was about the only thing he knew how to cook and he didn't want to bother the housekeeper. When they'd arrived, they had expected to find Gilles already there, but Lisette informed Brian that M. Michaud had not been back since he and Brian departed together.

"I can't believe you left him with Fiona." Justin told him again. "She's going to talk his ear off."

"I'm not too worried about him." Brian grinned. "You want to hear a secret?"

"It doesn't involve cows, does it?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "If I pay you more, are you willing to forget you ever heard it?" He offered, only half kidding.

"I think that story falls under the category of priceless." Justin told him. "Now, what's your secret this time?"

"It's not really mine." Brian admitted. "It's Gilles'…I'm pretty sure that he's got a crush on Fiona."

"Get out of here." Justin scoffed.

"Seriously." Brian insisted. "He says she looks like Susan Sarandon and I'm telling you – he's go the hots for her."

"Oh my God." Justin laughed. "That is _hysterical_. But…. I guess I can see that."

"You can't say anything." Brian warned. "It would embarrass him and technically he's boss to both of us."

"My lips are sealed." Justin managed to stop laughing. "Now are we going to play another game, or what?"

"Not this one." Brian informed him. "Racing is getting boring and I still think you cheat."

"That is so not true." Justin defended himself and then added. "I see what you mean about laid back now. I can't believe the guy has all this shit. Does he ever play with it?"

"He told me he doesn't even know which remotes are for what." Brian said. "His daughter buys him this stuff to amuse him. My guess is he plays them with her sometimes."

"Cool." Justin said, momentarily missing the times he'd spent with his own father.

Brian could take one look at that face and guess what the kid was thinking. Although he knew it wasn't a happy thought, Brian was still pleased that he wasn't completely lost when it came to reading Justin. He held up a box. "How about this one?"

"Classic arcade games?" Justin read. "God, I haven't played Pac-Man in… forever. Frankly, it's a little before my time."

Brian scowled. "Like the box says… it's a classic."

"Fine." Justin laughed at Brian's reaction to being dated. "You're on."

They engaged in fairly good-natured competition for the next thirty minutes, until Brian lost his fifth straight - you should excuse the expression – game in a row. "You're doing it again." He complained.

"What advantage do you claim I have this time?" Justin asked. "Couldn't it just be that you suck?"

Brian resisted the urge for innuendo and sighed… looking around for an explanation. He used to be so good at this game. He and Mikey spent hours at the arcade, until their hands were ready to fall off or they ran out of quarters – whichever came first. He wished he could say he was letting the kid win, but he wasn't. His consolation, and no small one, was the fact that Justin was kicking Brian's butt with his formerly weak hand. That made losing more than easy to take, not that he was going to admit it. "I think it's your joy-stick."

"Excuse me?" Now it was Justin's turn to ignore the insinuation. "There's something wrong with my stick?" He struggled desperately not to smile.

"Not something wrong with it … I just think it works better than mine." He was sure he couldn't have gotten _that_ bad. "We should switch them to be fair."

"They look the same to me." Justin was dubious.

"No." Brian insisted. "Yours must be bigger or something, so you're able to handle it better." Suddenly the insinuation caught up with him and he too began fighting a grin. He reached for the other game controller. "Let me have it."

At that, Justin couldn't help it, he actually giggled and the more he heard it and annoyed himself, the more he was unable to stop. "I'm so flattered you think mine is… um…bigger and better handled, but I don't feel right about letting you…have it." He moved the joystick behind him and out of Brian's reach.

"You little shit." Brian had to admit he'd walked right into that one. As he leaned forward, his laughter flowed freely now. "I knew yours worked better… hand it over."

"No way." Justin scooted back. "I refuse to give in to your childish demands and I must say… you make a very poor host."

"It's not my house." Brian rationalized, as he leaned forward, then pounced. "And I'll show you childish." With that he reached for the controller with one hand and began to tickle Justin's side with the other. He knew he was cheating a little himself, but screw it – he needed the advantage. And that wasn't all he needed.

"Now who's not playing fair!" Justin gasped. He laughed and tried to squirm away, time disappearing suddenly and this moment reminding each of past playful struggles between them. Justin was fully reclined and nearly free… when he slipped, and slid to the floor, his head grazing the table leg. "Ow."

"Shit." Brian was on the floor beside him. "Are you all right?"

Justin leaned up on one hand and rubbed the side of his head with the other. "Yeah, it's fine."

Brian wasn't prepared to take his word for it. "Let me see." He gently moved Justin's hand out of the way and ran his own fingers softly over the spot, leaning down to look closely. "I don't think there's a bump… is it still sore?"

"Not really…" Justin's breath caught in his throat when he smelled Brian's cologne so close. "… just a little."

Brian continued to rub his hand lightly over the offended area and then finally looked down at Justin.

His head was tilted back, arching slightly into the older man's touch, his eyes were half shut, and his lips were parted just a bit. There was no way that Brian could deny such an invitation. His other hand too, anchored itself firmly in the golden strands of Justin's hair, and his own eyes began to close with the anticipation of their lips joining. Relief flooded his body at the prospect of this simple contact. _This_ is what he needed.

"Brian?" Came an ill-timed voice from just outside the door. "Are you in… oh my… my apologies. I'm dreadfully sorry."

Justin's eyes popped fully open and he squirmed away again. This time Brian let him. "Gilles, come back – it's fine." Brian called, and laughed a little at the absurdity of the situation. Caught making out, well… almost making out, like a teenager. At least one of them had an excuse. "It wasn't what it probably looked like." Brian began sheepishly. "We were arguing over Justin's unfair advantage, and he decided to play on my sympathy by cracking his head on the table." He smiled at the kid. "You going to live?"

"I think so." Justin replied, rubbing the spot a little and taking Brian's hand to be helped up. "I didn't hit it hard, anyway."

"Justin… " Gilles stepped forward, hand outstretched. "I am so pleased to finally meet you properly. Brian has spoken very highly of your work, and of course I am already the proud owner of one of your pieces." He gestured to the framed sketch behind his desk, that Justin had failed to notice earlier.

"Thank you, sir. It's nice to meet you too." Justin felt a bit shy all of a sudden. "I hope you'll be happy with my other work."

"Please call me Gilles." The man instructed. "Formality makes me feel old." He smiled.

Brian smiled too – one more thing they had in common. "I've asked Justin if he can come back with us tomorrow and he thinks he can manage it."

"Wonderful." Gilles was pleased. "I will arrange a room immediately."

"I can call." Brian offered.

"Nonsense." Gilles dismissed it. "I'll leave a message with my assistant and he will make sure all is in order when we arrive."

"Thank you." Justin thought the man seemed very pleasant and his nervousness abated somewhat.

"Gilles, does Bernard still have the car out?" Brian asked, realizing that, although it wasn't really late, if they were to be on a train in the morning Justin should probably go home and get ready – and hopefully get a little sleep. The kid did look tired.

"If he doesn't, I know he won't mind retrieving it." Gilles said. "Were you going out?"

"No." Brian shook his head. "I just thought that Justin might want to pack for tomorrow… and maybe he has other things to do."

"What time do we leave?" Justin directed his question to Gilles.

"One o'clock." Michaud informed him. "I hope that will be agreeable."

"That should be fine." Justin was relieved it wasn't too early – he was so exhausted he might actually sleep through tonight. He was feeling a little less tense, so there was every chance he would.

"I'll page Bernard then." Gilles stepped into the other room to use the intercom.

Justin looked back at Brian, unsure what to say. "I could've walked. It's not that far." He couldn't quite make himself hold Brian's gaze, given the awkward moment before Gilles' arrival.

"You look tired…. take the ride." Brian finally managed to meet his eyes. "And for Christ's sake stay out of the bars tonight and get some sleep. Michaud will probably want to talk on the train, and it'd be nice if you looked a little more awake when you go over your sketches." Brian's tone made plain he was mostly teasing. He wasn't trying to give the kid a hard time. Well – not that kind.

"I'll try to get away from Fee at a decent hour." Justin promised with a smile. "She'll want to tell me all about her date, I bet."

"Right." Brian laughed. "Be sure to note any really juicy stuff that you think will amuse me."

"I'll see what I can do." Justin rolled his eyes. "But, somehow I don't think romance between two quasi-middle aged people is going to do it for you."

"You might be surprised." Brian said cryptically.

"There we are." Gilles returned. "Bernard is pulling around now. Be sure to let him know where you'd like to be picked up tomorrow, Justin, and we will fetch you on the way."

"That's great. Thank you very much." Justin liked this guy more and more – he seemed so determined to make everyone comfortable. No wonder even Brian liked him.

"Not at all." Gilles waved away the thanks. "Brian, why don't you walk Justin out, and then maybe you'd take a nightcap with me?"

Brian nodded, getting the feeling Michaud either wanted to talk about his evening, or pry about Brian's. He found he didn't mind in either case.

"Bonne nuit." Justin bid adieu to his new, albeit temporary, employer. "C'était très agréable de vous rencontrer. J'ai hâte de vous voir demain."

"Merci, Justin." Gille replied with an impressed smile. "Je suis impatient de travailler ensemble."

Brian followed Justin towards the front door and gave him a playful nudge. "Show-off."

Justin responded by way of an angelic smile tinged with humor that usually meant he was pretty pleased with himself.

Brian was pretty pleased with him too. "So we'll see you around twelve-fifteen or so, okay?"

Justin nodded, smiled once more, and stepped out the door to the waiting car. "I'll be ready."

Well that'd make one of them, Brian thought to himself, as he watched Bernard drive away.

He made his way back to the den and discovered Gilles was just pouring some wine. "You didn't tell me that your friend spoke French." He commented, as he handed Brian a glass.

"I didn't know; not until the day we drove to the aqueduct, anyway." Brian sat down in one of the over-stuffed chairs. "I'm beginning to think there's a lot of things I don't know."

Gilles seated himself across from his guest, and pensively took a sip of his wine. "That's often the sign of a wise man, Brian." He told him. "I wouldn't be discouraged."

"You don't understand." Brian shook his head. "It's such a little thing to know and… I didn't. Justin has been in my life for two years and I had no idea he spoke another language. He might speak Swahili too, for all I know." Brian's frustration was evident and it was clear he was annoyed with himself. Gilles suspected it wasn't just about this.

"Well, now you do." The man said simply. "And I'm sure that if you want to, you'll find out even more. Justin seems to be a very personable young man. I like him."

"He's that all right." Brian agreed. "And I like him too – that's the problem."

"Being fond of someone doesn't always have to be a problem, Brian." Gilles encouraged. "You might find yourself pleasantly surprised, if you showed it."

Brian sighed. "It's not that simple."

"Ah…simple…." Gilles scoffed. "_Nothing_ is simple, my friend. That's life."

Brian looked at his host and broke his last "professional talk only" rule. "Gilles - I'm gay… my best friend has been in love with me for years... I slept with his HIV positive boyfriend before they met… my mother is a religious fanatic whose minister I've had at the baths… I have a son with a former lover whose wife hates me… _and_ I'm in love with a nineteen year old twink. Trust me, that is not life. That is something by Woody Allan!" With that he upturned his glass and drained it.

Gilles remained silent just a moment and then said. "Woody Allen would never film in Pittsburg."

Brian looked up and they both burst out laughing. "Do you feel better now?" Gilles inquired.

"Pour me some more wine and we'll see." Brian stopped laughing to say. "I'm sorry Gilles – that was… could we just rewind my little outburst and pretend it never happened?"

"High time it did, from the sound of things." Gilles advised him. "And it comforts me to know that your personal life is not nearly so well organized as your business life – it makes you more human. Based on your work, I had feared you were intolerably perfect."

Brian smiled gratefully. Trust Gilles to find a way to tell him that business and personal conversations had nothing to do with one another, and that he was still thrilled with Brian's work. "That's one thing I've never been accused of. Perfect that is - intolerable has been tossed my way more than once."

"So, your evening did not go well, then?" Gilles guessed. "Forgive me, but I had thought otherwise when I first walked in."

"Not really." Brian told him. "Your arrival stopped what would have been a huge mistake on my part."

"But you care for the young man, do you not?" Gilles asked.

"Which is probably why I should leave him alone." Brian said. "I'm not exactly great for him."

"In what way?" Gilles asked patiently.

"In every way." Brian sighed. "I… he was a lot more innocent before he met me… and a lot happier."

"He still seems to exude a rather innocent air…" Gilles pointed out. "…and I find it hard to believe you can't come up with anything you did that made him happy."

Brian considered the many times, especially when it was just the two of them, that they'd both been more than content. He knew it hadn't all been bad. "Well, I could have made him happier… if I had bothered to find out how that was done."

"And perhaps he could have volunteered the information." Gilles argued. "So – you are not perfect and he is not perfect – what matters is whether you are perfect for each other."

"I'm sure there are people better for him." Brian admitted ruefully. "He even left me for one of them."

Gilles shook his head. "I think you are too hard on yourself." He leaned in and said seriously. "Listen to me, Brian - it's too big a world to be in competition with everyone. The only person who I have to be better than is myself. And in your case, that's difficult enough."

Brian gave a slight smile at the compliment. "I don't think it's going to matter who I'm better than anymore. I was pretty shitty to him a lot of the time and I can't imagine he'd want to risk that again."

"Is he still involved with this other man?" Gilles asked.

"No." Brian said. "He seems determined not to be involved with anybody."

"When I arrived home, he seemed quite willing to be involved with you." Gilles said archly.

"That was different." Brian explained. "It was just a momentary… I don't know – just a thing."

"I don't believe that's so." Gilles disagreed. "I would say you have more of a chance than you think you do."

"Maybe." Brian ventured. "But I refuse to get my hopes up."

"Brian, my friend." Gilles said softly. "That's what hopes are for."

The other man took another sip of his wine and just nodded. Gilles had a point. What remained was whether he was willing to risk them being dashed.

So…" Gilles continued. "What did you do for most of the evening, before my untimely interruption."

"We just talked and goofed around." Brian grinned at the memory. "Played with your video games, at which he kicked my butt, and we…I guess we flirted."

"But this is encouraging, is it not?" Gilles suggested.

"Yeah." Brian agreed. "I guess it is."

"So despite protestations that you aren't good enough for him, you want the young man back." Gilles probed. "If you really feel that way… then why?"

Brian thought about that for a moment, then he spoke, the answer coming to him as he was saying it. "Because I realized that everyone was always accusing me of only thinking of myself and what I want." He said. " So I guess I just thought…fine, why not actually do it for a change. And what I want… is Justin."

Gilles nodded wisely. "And yet, by your own admission… you don't deserve him."

"I know." Brian acknowledged. "But I need him." He met Gilles gaze. "And I don't need anything."

The man simply poured more wine and took a sip, letting Brian think about his revelation for a moment. Finally the man looked a little more peaceful and smiled. "So, Gilles…" He began playfully. "Was I the only one here flirting with my dinner companion?"

Gilles laughed, hung his head a little and prepared for the teasing to come.

_xxxx_

**XIV** ~ **Temperance: **In some decks this card is called the alchemist. It usually depicts an angel standing with one foot in the water and the other on earth., indicating that the temperate personality links the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. The word temperance comes from the Latin temperare and means to mix or combine properly. The card itself indicates a need to mix and match until you find what is right for you. In the case of relationships of any kind – the proper mix to make them smooth.

What is traditionally known as the Temperance card is a reference to the Soul. Classically female, she is mixing up a blend of subtle energies for the evolution of the personality. One key to interpreting this card can be found in its title, a play on the process of tempering metals in a forge.

Metals must undergo extremes of temperature, folding and pounding, but the end product is infinitely superior to impure ore mined from the earth. In this image, the soul volunteers the ego for a cleansing and healing experience which may turn the personality inside-out, but which brings out the love hidden within the heart.

In a reading: You are reaping the benefits of recent introspection. Your vision shifts from events and people who have shaped your life toward how you will shape your own future. You are able to see the opposing forces; moreover, you are able to mediate those forces and you conserve and direct your energies wisely. Your moods have gotten the better of you but that is in the past. Everything isn't black and white. Communication is no longer a fighting word.

**A/N: If you liked this chapter, I hope you'll let me know. I do edit them faster with encouragement! **


	17. The Devil

Brian didn't really mind that his companions had been engrossed exclusively in their own conversation for most of the journey to Paris. It had given him a chance to simply observe Justin without having to dodge verbal land mines. The kid looked good, if somewhat tired, but he could do with a little more padding. However, it did appear that he'd hardened up a bit... had a little more definition, maybe. Specifics aside, he was hot, as always. What he wasn't, it seemed, was someone who planned on returning to Pittsburgh anytime soon.

This morning Brian had tried a casual inquiry as to what Justin's errand in Paris was, and he had told the older man straight out that he was trying to get a Visa. Brian was fairly certain he hadn't betrayed his feelings, but his heart had skipped a beat when Justin confirmed his suspicions. The kid was so cavalier about it too – as though it weren't just one more step away from ever coming back to the Pitts… or to Brian.

Gilles had joined the conversation at that point and those two had begun a dialogue that had not stopped for some time. Now that the car was in front of the hotel, they finally came up for air, Justin looking up at the doorway as he got out. "You're kidding me, right?" He addressed Brian.

Brian had forgotten about the name. "No, but that was my reaction too." He smiled slyly. "Gilles, have you seen your brother lately?"

Gilles got out to speak to Bernard and help with the trunk. "Not as yet, but I'll be sure to let you know what he says."

Brian turned to Justin and stage whispered. "Gilles' gay education is missing a few vocabulary lessons."

Justin tried not to laugh. "I see."

"Fine, fine…" Gilles shook his head. "Make fun of the straight man." Brian smiled and took his bags from Bernard, as Gilles continued. "Brian, Justin's room is under his name and it should be ready. René tells me that it is on your floor, so I'm sure you can get him settled and then see me in the office tomorrow. I regret that I cannot join you for dinner, but I have some things I would rather get out of the way tonight." He then addressed the younger man specifically. "And I would very much like to take you to lunch tomorrow, Justin. Say one o'clock?"

Justin nodded. "That's really nice of you, thanks."

"I will look forward to continuing our chat then." Gilles assured him. He shook both men's hands, giving Brian a pat on the back as well, and then got in the car again.

As they made their way in the door of the hotel, an employee bringing up the rear with their bags, Justin turned to Brian. "God, is he always so cool?"

Brian just nodded. "Disgusting, isn't it."

As they took the elevator up to his floor, Brian reasoned that of course they would have put Justin near him; it only made sense. When they arrived at the end of the hall… at the door _right_ _next_ to his suite, he was surprised to say the least. He waited in the doorway while Justin got the ten francs tour.

"… and here is the connecting door, of course, which makes it a two bedroom suite with a shared living room and kitchen." The oblivious bellman deposited Justin's bags and gestured to an all but unnoticeable door in Justin's large room. "Please let me know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more enjoyable, Monsieur." He returned to the hallway with Brian right behind him, and moved the remaining bags into the other room. When Brian did not immediately follow him through the door to his suite, the porter turned. "Is there a problem, Monsieur Kinney?" He inquired solicitously.

"I… uh, no… " Brian walked into his own apartment. "I just assumed that Monsieur Michaud's office would have booked an entirely separate suite."

"They probably tried, sir, but it's difficult to obtain one during the high season. A surprising number of people do request them." The man explained, apologetically. " I can see about putting Mr. Taylor on a waiting list if you like – move him if one comes free."

"Thanks." Brian tipped the man and followed him to the door. "I'll let you know if that's required." He decided to do nothing for the time being. He'd simply wait and see how things played out.

After the porter left, Brian sat down on the couch and looked an area of the living-room he hadn't really thought about before. He'd noted the decorative screen of course, but hadn't really given much thought to the door behind it. He supposed that somewhere in the back of his mind he'd made the assumption that it was for supplies, linen maybe, or something else necessary to the cleaning staff. Now he knew it hid something necessary to him; someone who might very well wonder if he had set this all up. Merde.

Meanwhile, in the next room and not knowing what else to do, Justin set about unpacking. While doing so, he tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the door that seemed to take up the entire corner of the room. It wasn't in a spot where you usually found connecting doors. He had no thought that this was a setup, of course. He knew the older man well enough to spot the utter shock, and possible dismay, that had dominated his features. No, Brian had not arranged this and was probably none too pleased about it.

Except… what about last night? He had been so sure that Brian was going to kiss him. But his eyes had been closed, and he reminded himself that just because the man wanted to make sure Justin was all right, it didn't mean that he _wanted_ him. Especially after what he'd done. The artist purged his mind of the absurd ideas and put away his last pair of jeans. What he needed, he decided, was to get out of his head for a while and go for a walk.

When in Paris before he'd covered a lot of ground, but there were still several things he wouldn't mind seeing. Their location was great for heading to a variety of destinations and he could think of one in particular that he'd like to visit, provided they weren't eating too early.

He turned to the all-present entryway, feeling it was silly to go out in the hall and around. He opened his side and knocked, then heard a gasp, and a "Jesus!" muttered on the other side.

Brian had jumped, startled by the tapping in front of him just as he was raising his own hand. He reached for the lock, turned it, and opened the door. Then he smiled just a little - he couldn't help it. "Hey."

"Hey." Justin replied. "Am I bothering you?"

"No." Brian said. "Come on in."

"Are you sure?" Justin persisted, feeling very out of place now that they were off his turf. "It kind of sounded like I might be."

"Oh." Brian clued in. "I was just… I managed to kick the table as I walked over."

"Well you opened the door so fast, you must've been moving too quickly and not paying attention."

"I guess." Brian readily agreed with that explanation. "So what's up? Hungry already?"

"No." Justin said. "I just thought I might head out for a bit if we aren't having an early dinner."

"I guess we can eat whenever." Brian didn't really care. "You're the one who's likely to get hungry first anyway. You can decide."

Justin considered a moment. "Seven-thirty should give me enough time."

"For what?"

"Just a walk and a look around." He said. "Clear my head a little."

Brian smiled, but knit his brows in confusion. "And you need several hours to do that?"

Justin nodded. "I will if I'm going to do it at Père Lachaise."

"You're going to clear your head in a cemetery?" Brian laughed slightly.

"Sure." His companion shrugged. "It's sunny out, it's supposed to be a nice walk and… I like cemeteries. They always give me perspective."

"Yeah, too much fucking perspective, if you ask me." Brian offered, tongue in cheek.

"I didn't." Justin smiled, impishly. "I just asked what time we're having dinner."

He turned to head back to his room, when Brian spoke. "Why not?"

"Why not, what?" Justin faced him, confused.

"Why didn't you ask me… to come with you, I mean. Is this head clearing something you need to do alone?" Brian grimaced comically. "Perhaps it's a euphemism for some bizarre ritual you don't want anyone to see?"

Justin pretended to consider the question. "Well, bizarre is a subjective term." He pointed out. "Anyway, you really want to?

"I thought I successfully implied that."

"I don't need a baby-sitter, you know." Justin warned him. "I've been all around Paris before."

"Well I haven't, and I should see a few sights while I'm here." Brian said reasonably. "And I don't need a baby-sitter either,…"

"Debatable." Justin muttered under his breath.

"…but I'd say your prior trip makes you tour-guide." Brian went on as though he hadn't heard the dig.

"All right." Justin agreed with amusement. "When can you be ready?"

"I'll meet you out here in five minutes." Brian made to go get changed, but stopped. "Justin."

The blond turned. "Yeah?"

"I'm s… I mean, these rooms aren't exactly…" Brian tried to figure out how to explain without making it worse. "I intended that you'd have your own suite, you know." He looked away a little. "I wasn't trying to keep tabs on you or anything."

"I know you weren't, Brian." Justin told him. "I could see you weren't too happy about it either. Listen, it could have been worse: We might have had to share a bathroom." Justin made a mock face of horror, as he had resolved to treat the matter lightly. Of course Brian didn't want to have to share anything with him. Why would he? Except… he was going out for a walk with him, wasn't he. What was that about? Justin tabled his concerns for now and decided to simply enjoy any pleasant moments as they occurred and try to ignore the bad ones. Not that this strategy had worked well for he and Brian before.

On the way to his room, Brian smiled, thinking about the less than harmonious moments when they _had_ shared a bathroom. He didn't say anything though. Nor did he correct Justin's assumption that he'd been unhappy about the room arrangements. In fact, it occurred to him that it provided an opportunity he might otherwise not have. This go with the flow thing might have its advantages after all. He'd find out soon enough, if he could manage to pull off what he intended.

After Justin returned to his own room and partly shut the door, he ran a brush over both hair and teeth, grabbed his allergy pills, thinking better safe than sorry, and headed back to Brian's living room. Or the living room it appeared they were to share. He'd happily forgo that, except that the kitchen was in here too and despite everyone's comments on his slight figure – he _did_ like to have food around at all hours. He never knew when he might want a snack. The fact was that he was used to eating in. He dined out a maximum of one meal a day and usually at Fiona's – which didn't really count.

He noted that Brian appeared exactly after his stated five minutes, looking outstanding as usual, especially given the casual clothes. Usually the less he fussed, the better he looked. Justin had always loved it when he was just, as Brian put it, "all schlepped out". Except he wasn't supposed to know that Brian said things like that. He wasn't really supposed to know Brian.

They headed into the hallway and down to the elevators.

"So." The older man began. "There's a ton of cemeteries in Paris - why Pèrè Lachaise?"

"You've got to be kidding me." Justin gave him an incredulous look. "Duh - Jim Morrison is buried there, for starters."

Brian hadn't expected that answer. Oscar Wilde maybe … or some other famous artist, but not a sixties rock musician. "Do not try to tell me you're a fan."

"Absolutely." Justin swore, as they stepped into the lobby and headed for the exit.

"Get serious." Brian rolled his eyes. "There is no way you're a Doors fan."

"Says who?" Justin refuted. "And how would you know anyway?"

"Let's say I'm making an educated guess." Brian said, with amusement, having never heard him play the group that he could recall. Although… the kid did tend to have headphones on a lot while he worked. Nah – it was ridiculous. "Anyway, Jim's been dead longer than you've been alive."

"You are such a hypocrite." Justin smiled and shook his head in amazement. "You listen to tons of music that's older than you are."

"How would you know?" Brian couldn't resist.

"I…um" Justin stammered. "I guess Lindsay must have mentioned it, or something."

Brian took pity on him and let it go. "Well she never mentioned _your_ musical taste, and you certainly don't look like any fan of the Lizard King that I've ever seen."

"Looks can be deceiving." Justin assured him. "Hey - you want to take the Metro up there and see how we feel about walking back later?"

"Sure." Brian agreed, and they made their way towards the nearest station.

The time passed quickly with silly conversation, pointing out purse dogs, and laughing at the mélange of oddities one is likely to encounter in the underground transportation of any large city. Plenty of things to make fun of and amuse oneself with. It's practically a people zoo down there at times. As the British say: there's naught as queer as folk.

When they neared their station, Brian turned to Justin. "So what's your favorite song?"

"Huh?" Justin had moved on from that conversation.

"Your favorite Doors song." Brian asked again. "What is it?"

"What's yours?" The younger man shot back.

"I asked you first."

"That is sooo childish." The younger man proclaimed. "I want to know if you're even qualified to quiz me on this."

"Would you just answer the fucking question." Brian urged him with a smirk.

"Fine." Justin sighed dramatically. "It's '_Peace Frog'_."

Brian shook his head. "It is not."

Justin just looked at him and shrugged as if to say "_whatever_", and then rose as the train came to a stop.

"Seriously?" Brian asked again, as they stepped onto the platform and walked towards the stairs. "It's kind of bloody, isn't it?"

"I guess." Justin agreed with a shrug. "I just like it."

"It is a good song." Brian conceded. "The only one that's danceable really, except for that slow bit in the middle."

I know." Justin concurred.

They both began in silly voices… "'_Indians scattered on dawn's highway'_…" and then laughed together.

"Ok." Justin reminded, as they stepped into the sun again. "Now yours."

Brian hesitated.

"I'll bet it's '_The End'_." Justin guessed, with an evil smirk.

"Asshole!" Brian laughed. "You obviously haven't met my mother. Besides being gay automatically negates any Oedipal urges."

Justin said nothing, thinking of when he _had_ met Mrs. Kinney. Every time he thought of that incident he cringed, and felt freshly sorry for Brian, almost ready to forgive him anything again.

"It's '_The Crystal Ship'_." Brian said finally.

Now it was Justin's turn to disbelieve. "Really?"

Brian simply nodded.

"That would _not_ have been a guess." Justin told him. "It's kind of… well, it's kind of mushy, isn't it?"

"It's deep." Brian asserted… then cracked a smile and mimicked. "I just like it, okay?"

Justin held up his hands. "Okay… okay."

"You ready to clear your head now?" Brian asked as they neared the gate.

"Absolument." Justin grinned.

"Show off." Brian scolded for the second time in as many days.

_xxxx_

The hours had gone by quickly and Brian found himself entertained, despite the circumstances. It would not have occurred to him to spend all afternoon walking around what was basically an old field planted with dead people – albeit some very famous ones. However, Justin's enthusiasm was either contagious or just entertaining in and of itself, because Brian had been far from bored.

There were actually some interesting people buried there and Justin seemed to know a lot about many of them. Brian was no history slouch either and it made for animated conversation; conversation that didn't appear to have suffered from a change in venue. Their historical dialogue made him think of where he'd like to take Justin for dinner and so they caught a cab to Les Deux Magots. Brian could keep talking all day, but not walking. His feet were killing him and he was sure it must be time for a drink.

Naturally, Justin was used to the walking by now, but had been able to tell that Brian was getting tired. He couldn't think of the last time he'd enjoyed himself so much, but it was tainted by the fact that he knew he shouldn't. Not too much anyway. Brian was probably being nice to him because Gilles was so determined to have him draw for their campaign. Of course, he needn't have bothered, since there was no way Justin would bail now. Not after meeting and getting to like Michaud so much. Not even if Brian broke their deal, although he didn't think the executive needed to know that. It was a relief that the man had_, _for the most part_,_ been sticking to their agreement. It was Justin who seemed to be having trouble with it. He had slipped up a few times during their walk, but so far not at dinner.

He had not been to this restaurant before, but he'd heard of it and was pleased that Brian had thought of it. He was even more pleased when he found that the food deserved its reputation. However, when their plates had been cleared and only the wine remained, Justin went from fairly pleased, to slightly pissed at Brian's next topic of conversation.

"So tell me: what makes a nice American boy like you embrace French culture so enthusiastically that you want to move here."

Justin kept his tone neutral. "Who said anything about moving?"

"You're looking for a student Visa, right?" Brian reminded him.

"Yeah." Justin agreed.

"For a… what - two year program?"

"I guess." Justin wondered what the man's point was.

Brian lit up a cigarette and in haled deeply. "Two years is a move, Sunshine. Sorry… _Justin_." He over-pronounced the name, then offered the kid a smoke. "After being here that long… what would make you go back?"

"I don't know." Justin let the Sunshine comment slide, took a cigarette and rolled it around between his fingers.

"So, like I said…" Brian straightened up and poured the rest of the wine in both their glasses. "I'm curious as to what's so appealing about living here. Or so _unappealing_ about living in Pittsburgh… aside from the obvious, of course."

Justin accepted the refilled glass and took a sip. "I guess you could say that I'm looking for a fresh start."

Brian laughed and gestured out the window at their surroundings. "And this feels fresh?"

"I haven't checked the expiration date, but yeah… it does." Justin told him, not really wanting to explain himself.

Brian shook his head. "I don't get it."

Justin put down his glass and leaned in a little. "Didn't I hear that you were planning to move away once?"

"That was to New York, for Christ's sake - I didn't leave the country. Hell, I hardly left the State."

"But when you _did_ plan to go… "Justin persisted. "Didn't I also hear that you said something along the lines of wanting to leave without looking back; no more thinking about that place or those people?"

Brian slouched into his chair again, and took another drag while he tried to gather his thoughts to come up with a reply that didn't damn him.

Justin wasn't finished. "And you must have had a good reason for that, right."

Brian wasn't sure he liked where this was going. "Look, I may have said something to that effect I guess, but what I meant by it …"

Justin held up his hand and interrupted. "I get it; I really do. It's something I wouldn't have understood a few months ago, but I do now." He looked right at Brian. "I think anyone who gave you grief about wanting to go was being selfish and unfair."

Brian didn't know what to make of that, although he knew to what the kid referred. "Maybe they just cared about me."

"Maybe they wanted you to be someone you're not." He suggested. "Someone you didn't want to be anymore."

"Maybe." Brian nodded. "And who do you not want to be?"

Justin raised a brow. "The subject of this inquisition?"

"I'm serious." Brian told him. "What was so bad there? Not the just the boyfriend?"

"No." The young man said, after a pause. "I'd love to blame it all on him, but I can't."

"Was he that big a jerk?" Brian had lost his perspective on this one.

"Not all the time." Justin shook his head. "And I'd like to, only because it might mean I wasn't the asshole that I know I was. He was honest with me from the beginning, which is precisely why I can't blame him." He finally stopped playing with his cigarette and lit it, taking a long haul and letting it out. "And I wouldn't want to anyway."

"Oh, go for it." Brian smirked a little. "He probably deserves it."

Justin remained serious, however. "Even if he did… I think… if you blame other people for things, then you also give them control of the situation." He took another drag. "But if you take responsibility yourself, then you could also take back some of the power."

"Interesting." Brian said. "I have to admit, it sounds sensible – in theory anyway."

Justin laughed. "I know; doesn't it?"

"What's so funny? I was complimenting your logic."

Justin leaned in again and asked. "You know what's weird?"

"You?" Brian offered.

Justin wrinkled his nose at that. "What's weird is, I just thought of that now. I mean, I guess I knew it on some level, but I was just able to articulate it now."

Brian nodded. "You're what I call a verbal thinker."

"What's that mean?"

"That you work on things out loud." Brian explained. "Maybe you don't have as much internal edit as other people, and so you think and then talk almost exactly at the same time."

"Is that just a semi-polite way of saying I talk a lot?" Justin smiled.

"That too, but no." Brian smiled back.

"Mm hmm."

"So?" Brian prodded.

"So… what?"

"So… what's the matter with Pittsburgh?" Brian asked. "Again, aside from the fact that it's… well, Pittsburgh. I mean, from what I hear you have school there… a life… a future."

"Right!" Justin scoffed. "Kennedy had a brighter future when he got on that plane to Dallas." When Brian said nothing, he continued. "I made too many mistakes there, okay."

"Okay." Brian took that in. "So, why you can't just suck it up and move past them?"

Justin sighed in a manner that evidenced his frustration. "Even if I did get past all my problems, I'm just gonna go out and get new ones." He tried to explain. "I just… I don't know how to do things there anymore. I didn't like being the me I was there before I left, and I won't go back to it."

"And you're different here?" Brian was taking him seriously, and felt genuinely interested in knowing what he meant. He already had his own ideas on how Justin was different.

"I'm not scared here – not ever." Justin volunteered after a moment. "Also, I say what I mean, not just what people want to hear. I'm not worried about what they'll think. I don't disappoint anyone because the only expectations I meet are my own."

Brian was familiar with that last concept, but he still had questions. "So you don't care about finishing at IFA?"

"That's the least of my problems." Justin assured him.

Brian persisted. "Then what's the most of them?"

Justin looked at him and said nothing.

Brian guessed and went out on a limb. "So – some people hurt you, and you decide that turning your life upside down is the best way to get even?"

"Actually, it's only about a ninety degree turn…" Justin professed, jokingly. "And I have a good life here. I was never trying to '_get even' _with anybody, but if I was, you know what they say – living well is the best revenge."

"Sure, it's a great expression." Brian allowed. "I just don't know how valid it is. I mean, you don't see it turning up in a lot of movie plots." He continued dramatically and with sarcasm evident. "Enraged by the murder of his comrades and the betrayal of his commanding officers, Rambo wreaks vengeance on them all by… '_living well'_."

"_You_ seem to live very well, Brian." Justin pointed out. "Is it working?"

"Not especially." The older man found himself admitting, with a slightly amused expression.

They were both silent for a few beats, then the waiter dropped their bill on the table, somehow ending the moment.

_xxxx_

That Sunday night dinner at the old haunt of Sartre, de Beauvoir and Beckett et al., was the last time the two men spoke so personally. That isn't to say they didn't get along well – they did. This was largely due to the fact that they worked twelve hours a day and didn't have time for things to get weird. They were trying to get everything that needed to be done at the Paris office finished by the upcoming weekend. Brian had brought up the proposed visit to Rennes Le Chateau, and so the two had decided to take the train to Carcasonne, spend the night, and then rent a car to drive to Montpellier from there, stopping at Rennes on the way back.

Sharing the suite had not been a problem given that they were already attuned to most of the other's habits, even if they weren't acknowledging it. Justin came and went through his own hall door most of the time, although they each kept the door separating the rooms, unlocked. Perhaps as a gesture of good faith? Neither was sure.

At any rate, they were able to avoid each other pretty effectively, unless they specifically planned otherwise, which they did frequently – constantly revising and perfecting the needed art. Justin had even provided some useful ideas about other visual elements of the campaign, that weren't necessarily what he was originally to be working on. Most of their dialogue was work centered given the self-imposed deadline and that seemed to suit them both just fine. Well, it suited Justin. Brian, on the other hand, was merely biding his time.

Everything had been going according to plan for the most part. Also, Gilles and Justin had become as thick as thieves; Gilles joining them every day this week for lunch and last night for dinner. It was then that Justin mentioned skipping lunch today and leaving early in order to make it to the Visa office before it closed. They were only here for one more day and the office shut at noon tomorrow and every other Friday, so that left just today. He'd originally planned to go on Tuesday, but they had gotten so engrossed that they looked up from their work at one point to discover that it was seven-thirty at night.

Speaking of time… Brian snapped out of his reverie and checked his watch. In another couple hours it would be time for him to get out of here so that he and Gilles could meet Justin for dinner at seven-thirty. He was happy to have the older man dining with them again and he anticipated another pleasant evening. Especially considering how close they were to accomplishing what he'd planned for the week. It meant they could slow down and relax a little. He only hoped Justin had taken his advice and done just that after he returned to the suite. He should have got there hours ago and had time for a nap or something. The kid was looking very tired in Brian's opinion and maybe he always had, but Brian had never been around him so consistently while in France. That is, until this week.

He had a pretty good idea about the reasons for this fatigue and he was going to test his theory soon. He wasn't necessarily looking forward to it either, but he didn't feel he could avoid it. Not if he cared about Justin at all.

"Are you ready to go, Brian?" Gilles stuck his head into the office that Brian was occupying during his time here. "I thought we could have a drink at the restaurant if Justin is not ready."

Brian glanced around his desk and saw nothing that wouldn't keep. "Good idea." He agreed. "Let's head out."

Brian grabbed his briefcase and met Gilles at the elevators. They hailed a cab to the restaurant and, after a few minutes of work centered conversation, Brian called the hotel from his cell. He almost hoped that Justin would be sleeping and not answer. He was not surprised, however, when the blond picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey." Justin echoed. "You need me to come back in?"

"Nope – we're knocking off for the day."

"At five-thirty?" Justin was surprised. "Slackers."

"Yeah, that's us." Brian laughed, noting that beside him, Gilles was still flipping through a file. "So, you want to meet us early?"

"Sure. Just give me time to get changed."

"It's the same restaurant – just around the corner from the hotel. We'll be in the bar."

"Okay, but don't get too far ahead of me."

"You said Bogart thinks we're all one behind; you wouldn't want me to make it worse would you?" Brian teased.

"Ha ha." Justin acknowledged. "Later."

"Later." Brian hung up the phone.

"So, Justin will join us shortly then?" Gilles put the file away.

"As soon as he finds some decent clothes."

"I hope he doesn't think he needs to dress up." Gilles said. "This is a fairly casual restaurant."

"Trust me." Brian told him. "I've seen what Justin lounges around in and I'm sure you want him to change."

"You and he seem to be getting along very well, if I may say so." Gilles commented cautiously.

"You may… and we are, I guess." Brian smiled a little. "He's a bigger perfectionist than I am, and a complete workaholic."

"And you would certainly know a something about that." Gilles said, not letting Brian's hypocritical comment slide. "I wish I had more time to work on the campaign with you, but naturally other matters that come up require my attention."

Brian nodded, as they stepped out of the cab and up to the restaurant Gilles had selected. "That's why you hired _me_ instead of doing it yourself." Brian reminded him affably. "Even though the ad portion of your North American launch is crucial, it is hardly the only thing you've got going on."

"I'm not entirely sorry to see so little of you at the office." Gilles admitted. "This way, I rationalize our long lunches as working meals, even though you bring me up to speed so quickly. If I didn't look at it that way, I might feel guilty."

"Justin called us slackers for leaving early." Brian laughed as they sat at a small round table in the bar.

"He certainly isn't." Gilles was impressed with Justin on several fronts. "And he is remarkably self possessed for one so young."

"He's had a lot of life experience already." Brian offered dolefully.

"I see." Gilles responded, not one to pry.

"It really is Justin's story to tell or I would elaborate." Brian felt that was true. He saw no reason to clutter Justin's so called fresh start, although he wasn't giving up on the idea of getting Justin to make it with him - back home where he belonged. Or more accurately, where Brian wanted him.

"I understand." Gilles smiled, as they waiter approached to take their drink orders.

After the beverages arrived they discussed a few outstanding items that Brian needed final approval on in the morning, and were just finishing up when Justin walked in and spotted them.

"How behind am I?" He inquired as he sat down in the chair Brian had saved for him.

"Just the one." Brian assured him. "We haven't finished ours yet."

"Good." Justin smiled. "I can catch up."

"To me, or Bogie?"

Justin made a face at him then, when the waiter came to ask what he'd like, ordered some wine.

Gilles gave his attention to the young artist. "Tell me how you fared this afternoon, Justin. Were they able to help you?"

"They helped me to nothing but a bunch of red tape, which I desperately tried to wade through. It doesn't look good, though."

"What's the problem?" Brian asked, trying to hide his relief.

"It's a stupid vicious circle." Justin said as he took a sip of the wine their waiter had promptly deposited in front of him. "They say I need the acceptance from the University before they'll even consider granting a Visa, and the University says it can't consider an application until I get a Visa first. Somebody has to know what they're talking about at _one_ of these places."

"Bureaucrats and the registrars office?" Brian scoffed. "Don't count on it. It doesn't matter what country you're in - they exist solely to make your life more difficult." He felt kind of sorry for Justin's frustration, but he hoped this might cause him to rethink his plan.

"I have a ton of forms to fill out, but fuck it for now." Justin declared. "Oh sorry, Gilles." He made an embarrassed face as the older man waved off the apology. "I just refuse to let it ruin my dinner. Tell me about what you got done, Brian. Do I need to make those changes we discussed?"

Brian answered the question, then turned his eye on Gilles, trying to figure out the man's expression. He looked very pensive and rather… uncertain about something.

"... did you hear me?" Justin poked Brian.

"No – what?"

"I said, maybe we could make those back in Montpellier if that's okay. I'd like to drive out to the site again."

"No problem."

Justin stood. "I'll be just a sec – the washroom's in the back, right? They always are."

"And up the stairs." Gilles nodded.

When Justin left, Brian turned to his new friend. "Is everything all right?" It couldn't be the cursing. Brian had learned a few key French epithets and had heard Gilles use them with regularity when he was harried. The man was capable of several colorful metaphors in his own language.

"Let me ask you a question, Brian." Gilles said earnestly. "Would you want me to help Justin stay, if I could?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have a friend on the admissions board at the University. As well, I am not without influential connections in Paris that might be able to help with his Visa problems."

Brian was silent at that. Basically Gilles was telling him he could probably arrange for Justin's stay, but that it was up to Brian whether he did so. He appreciated that the man had asked him first, but in a way he didn't want that responsibility.

"You really think he could get in this late?"

"Yes." Gilles confirmed. "Without a doubt."

"When do you think you'd have to know by?"

"The sooner the better, but I could probably still do something about school acceptance up until the start of classes. The longer we wait, the more expensive will be the wine that I would have to send my friend." He smiled, trying to be light hearted about it. "We can speak of this later, perhaps. You tell me if you want to talk about it again."

Brian was about to reply when Justin returned to the table and picked up his glass again. "So – what'd I miss?"

_xxxx_

This dinner too, had been an unqualified success if one used good food and good conversation as the measuring stick. The only thing that would have made the evening complete would be for he and Justin to come back to the hotel and fuck.

Brian realized, as they walked back, that he hadn't gotten laid in days. He'd been jerking off like a fiend and had managed to work in a couple blowjobs when they presented themselves, but that was about it. And he hadn't really noticed until now. He had no idea what Justin was doing for sex, given how much they were working, but he didn't suppose he really wanted to know.

Speaking of work – he had some to do before he ran out of opportunity. As they reached the end of the hall, Justin pulled out his key from his wallet. "I think I'm going to bed early; I'm pretty tired."

"Actually, could you help me for a minute before you do?" Brian asked, opening his door first. "I had one or two quick questions about something, and I want to work on it for awhile tonight. I'll even provide a nightcap…" He offered.

"Sure." Justin walked in behind him and flopped down on the couch, tossing his wallet, sunglasses and key on the coffee table. "What have we got in the way of hot beverages? After all that wine I should probably stick to tea."

"Ahh… I think I'll have to defer to your culinary skills, then." Brian said, wryly. "I was only prepared to pour scotch."

"You sure you don't want some too?" Justin asked, as he got up and walked to the kitchen.

"No, that's okay." Brian said, as he passed the coffee-table behind Justin, and quickly made the switch. He'd been trying to time this correctly for days and just as he was starting to get desperate, he finally pulled it off. He risked a glance at Justin and then walked to the bar cart - he was going to need a shot of _something_ after psyching himself for that move. Who would have thought he'd be so nervous doing it. "I think I'll stick to alcohol."

"You know what…" Justin closed the cupboard door and turned around. "I'll have scotch after all; maybe it'll help me sleep."

"You're having problems sleeping?"

Justin coloured slightly, obviously not having intended to say that. "No – I just… I'm a little frustrated by all this visa crap and… I know I'll be thinking about it, that's all."

"I see." Said Brian. _Thought_ Brian, "_Nice save, Sunshine_." He poured their drinks and walked over to the desk with them. He really did have a couple of things to ask the artist and had used it as an excuse to get him in here.

They discussed a question Brian had about one of the label proofs, and then Justin finished his drink and said he was going to bed. "I'll see you at the office… or did you want to grab breakfast first?" He asked on his way through the connecting doors.

"We can go in a little later tomorrow." Brian told him. "Come over when you get up and we'll see how much time there is."

"Good night." Justin said, as he walked into his own room and began to close the door. "Don't work too late."

Brian made a couple notes on what they had discussed and then retired to his bedroom just before eleven. He had lied – he was making an early night of it too, since he had a feeling he was going to need at least a little recharging. He didn't want to be running on empty for what he suspected was coming up. And hey – maybe he was wrong. He'd love to think so, but he needed to know for sure.

Four and a half hours later, the shrill ringing of the phone told him that he was soon to find out. After listening to the other end for a moment, he sighed and said. "I'd appreciate it. Thanks."

_xxxx_

Slap slap slap. The consistent cadence of rubber shoe on wet pavement once again lulled Justin into a more relaxed state. He kind of liked it when he ran on damp ground… it provided a very satisfying, almost hypnotic noise. He wished you could record it, kind of like they recorded nature sounds. For it was the rhythm of the running that always calmed him, as much as any exertion from keeping the pace did.

After a few months of doing it, he had analyzed his predawn pastime and come up with a few ideas. His waking at three was clearly a result of his curfew with Brian – that didn't take a genius to figure out. He was simply used to waking up and checking for him then, is all. Unfortunately he often awoke from a nightmare at the same time. The weird thing was that he didn't remember these dreams at all now. Not since that night in Italy when he'd dreamed of the Prom, and had that vision he hadn't dared to think about for some time now. Maybe it had been real and maybe it hadn't. He didn't know which he preferred at this point.

So, aside from tiring him out effectively, why the running? He'd spent quite a bit of time trying to determine in which symbolic direction he was going. Was he running away from a thing, or running to something else? He ultimately decided that when he figured that out, he probably wouldn't need to do it anymore.

His breathing had almost returned to normal by the time he got off the elevator on their floor. He did feel better now and he'd be able to get a few more hours solid sleep, too. He hadn't felt the need to run for more than forty-five minutes tonight and considering that some nights it was upwards of two hours, he felt a little encouraged, as though he might be doing better.

He took the key card he'd stuffed in his back pocket and inserted it in the door. Red light. He tried again, slower this time. Red light. Now faster. Red. Frantic and annoyed. Red. "Shit." He turned to go downstairs and get some assistance, since he hardly wanted to knock for Brian at this hour. God, this was going to be embarrassing. Hopefully no one on staff would mention it again later.

He walked towards the elevator and wondered what he was doing wrong, when something occurred to him. Which side of his wallet had he taken the card from earlier? When the bell-man had originally handed him a copy of the suite's key, he had put it in the left side of his wallet along with other stuff he didn't use, but didn't want to get rid of. The key to _his_ room he put on the right side. He'd been pretty tired when they got back tonight and it was possible he'd grabbed the wrong one.

It was worth a try at least. He turned around and headed back down the hallway almost hoping he had been that dumb. If so, all he'd have to do was open the door quietly and walk the few feet to his connecting room. No one would have to know at all.

He laid the key in gingerly and was rewarded by the green light. He turned the handle slowly and was gratified by the lack of noise it generated. He softly shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief as he took the few steps to his own room. Thank God he kept it unlocked. He was but a step away from what he considered a clean getaway, when a light clicked on behind him.

"Let me guess…" Came a voice from the nearby chair. "…you couldn't wait until breakfast?"

Brian had been toying with the idea of just letting him go, when he heard Justin trying the door. It was dark, he would never see him and Brian could pretend that this hadn't even taken place. Pretend he hadn't spoken to his ally the concierge about watching for Justin on his shift, and letting Brian know his comings and goings. He could forget the fact that he'd actually had Paul call him tonight and let him know when Justin left, and again when he returned, so that he could finally catch the kid. The key card switch had been difficult to pull off, and he had been about to resort to going down after Justin left and conning a front desk clerk into changing the door code, but this was a little easier. Well, in as much as he felt easy about sitting up in the dark at four fifteen in the morning, waiting to confront his ex-lover about his sleeping habits.

Brian had found that although the time had dragged between warning calls from Paul, it didn't feel like he'd had enough in which to come up with something to say. He wasn't sure what the point of confronting Justin was, just that it felt like the thing to do. Beyond that – he was a little lost. He wished that he could see that sketch again; the one that Justin had drawn of him on their picnic, and which Brian knew he hadn't been meant to see. He wasn't too proud to admit that he'd already searched the kid's room for it; he needed to see it again. He thought maybe if he could see what Justin saw _now_ when he looked at him, maybe he could figure out what he was supposed to do.

He remembered that the image had been of himself looking over his shoulder at someone and smiling. Not one of the sultry and inviting smiles that he often sported when Justin used to sketch him, but a smile of openness and warmth. One that conveyed caring and all that came with it. You couldn't see whom it was, but in the picture, Brian had been reaching out a strong hand to someone off frame. He was gesturing for them to come with him, seeming to imply that all would be well if they did.

He didn't know how well things were going to turn out now, but it was time to reach out to Justin for real, even if he did live to regret it.

"So?" He refocused his thoughts, and again addressed the motionless youth. "Decided to go out for a snack, did you?"

At first, Justin had been hoping he was having a delusion, but when Brian spoke again, he accepted his bad luck and turned to face him. "We didn't have anything good." He said, coolly.

Brian cocked his head and said, tongue in cheek, "And you found what? An all night crepe stand?"

Justin drew himself up. He didn't owe anybody any explanations. Let Brian think what he wanted. "If you must know… I was looking for more of a low fat, high protein kind of snack, okay?"

Brian rolled in his lips and gave a nod, then asked. "Dressed like that?"

Shit. Justin looked down at his very weathered and loose jeans, and his plain white T-shirt. The jeans were so worn as to practically function as track pants. They were meant to be loose enough to run in, although he didn't want to explain that to Brian. "It's called casual. How picky do you think people are at three in the morning?"

Bingo. Brian had already deduced that the witching hour in Justin's case was three o'clock - just like it often was for himself. Though he knew it was purely Pavlovian, it didn't stop him from searching his bed for the young blonde at that hour. He wondered what Justin was out searching for. He hadn't really been trolling for cock, had he? "So, did you find a suitable snack?"

Justin didn't know why, but he continued the charade. "I uh… it was pretty slow, actually."

"Poor sunshine." Brian mocked deliberately. "All dressed up and no one to blow."

That earned him nothing but a glare and the kid's back turned on him, as Justin set out for his own room again.

Brian hadn't intended for things to go like this - he needed to regain control of the encounter. "What's the big deal?" Brian voice stopped Justin's exit. "Why not admit that you finally have to start exercising like the rest of us because your twinkie metabolism is starting to slow down."

So Brian knew somehow. Well, who cared. "Okay – so I've taken up running." Justin admitted. "I just didn't feel like getting made fun of."

"I wouldn't do that." Brian told him seriously, then smiled. "I'm all for keeping in shape." He said nothing for a moment; letting Justin assume he was free from further inquiries and then…"So, why three o'clock?"

Justin narrowed his eyes a little and shrugged uncooperatively. "No idea."

"I think you're lying." Brian said, mildly.

"I think it's none of your business." Justin replied, much less mildly.

"Would you just sit down, for fuck sake." Brian directed impatiently. "I want to talk to you for minute."

"Sounds more like you want to harass me." Justin caved a bit and walked over to where Brian was, then sat tentatively on the edge of the sofa. "What is it?"

Brian tried again to get this going somewhere approaching hopeful. "Can I be… serious with you for a minute?"

""I don't know." Justin lifted an eyebrow. "Can you?"

"Christ… just fucking stop it, all right?" Brian was getting extremely frustrated, and his nervousness of earlier was fast becoming annoyance.

"Stop what?"

"This sarcastic refusal to have an actual conversation every time it becomes too personal." He leaned in. "This isn't you, Justin."

"Says who?" Came the flip response.

Brian sighed heavily. "I do."

Justin knew it was silly, but he felt almost taunted by those words coming out of Brian's mouth. He got up and walked over to the fridge for a drink, in an effort to cool down a little. It didn't work. "Isn't this who you always wanted me to be?" He turned around and accused lightly. "Just like you?"

"I never said that." Brian insisted, giving up any pretense at a lack of familiarity. "Not once."

Justin wondered why the fuck Brian would do this now, just when everything was going so well. It made him bitter all over again. "I've had an interesting couple of years, Brian, so why don't we just call this the new me."

The older man met his gaze. "There was nothing wrong with the old you."

Justin slammed his bottle of water onto the counter. "You don't get to do this."

"Do what?" Brian was genuinely confused.

"This." Justin gestured between them. "Act all understanding and nice…pretend you're not Brian '_I don't give a fuck'_ Kinney." Justin shook his head as though to clear it. "I spent too long learning how to respond to him and I am _not_ figuring it out again."

"Look, Justin…there are things about me that I just …that you don't understand." Brian tried to take Michael's advice and explain himself, if he could.

He didn't get a chance. "No shit, Brian." Justin interrupted. "I wonder if I know anything about you at all. That's the problem." He calmed down and corrected himself. "_Was_ the problem."

"So find out now." Brian offered.

"What for?" Justin sounded as tired as he looked.

Brian struggled for the right words. "Because … we've become friends … "

Justin huffed a bit. "Friends don't ambush each other in the middle of the night and interrogate one another, Brian."

"They do if they give a shit."

Justin let the words sink in, but tried to ignore the old meaning he'd attached to them. It wasn't like that between them anymore. It wasn't like that for him at all – he knew better than to believe in all that love bullshit. But he did still believe in friends. Was Brian really proposing to become one of them?

"And I'm supposed to believe that you give one."

Brian made a point of looking at the clock. "I'm certainly not up for the good of _my_ health."

So that was it. Brian looking after sad case Justin once again. Maybe it was a habit. "I see." He nodded, strangely calm at this familiar feeling. "You want to be my friend so you can help me with whatever you think my problems are, is that it?"

"Is there something wrong with that?" Brian asked.

Justin glared at him. "I think what you really want, is to watch me be weak so that you can feel stronger." Justin told him bluntly. "Well, just don't expect my cooperation this time."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about '_poor little Justin… always has to have Brian look after him. I wonder when he's gonna grow up and be a real man'._" Justin's jaw muscles twitched as he tried to get himself calm. "Never, if you have your way."

"You think I don't want you to be a man?" Brian was incredulous. "Jesus, Justin.. you already are one. More of one than most I know." He knew it was time that he admitted that. "I've always thought so."

Justin truly wanted to believe him. "You really didn't track me down on purpose …to check up on me?"

"No." Brian decided it was technically the truth and left it at that. "The only reason I'm bugging you now is because you look like tired as hell lately, and we both know it. I just want to know what's going on."

"No you don't." Justin told him flatly, remembering how much the topic had always bothered Brian. "I don't need you to save me anymore." He said as he sat back down.

"I'll say." Brian agreed, emphatically. "You live in the south of France, making enough to support yourself, doing exactly what you love. You get laid when you want, you have friends to hang with… Aside from what I imagine is a little post traumatic stress, I'd say you have a pretty sweet setup." He looked right at Justin. "What the fuck is there to save you from? A Pittsburgh free life? We should all be so lucky."

Justin wondered if it were that simple. He knew Brian was making light a little in order to ease the tension, but he hoped the man was right about what was wrong. Somehow, being able to identify the problem did make it more manageable. "You really think that's all it is?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't know." Justin admitted. "Probably."

"We could …talk about it." The older man suggested after a pause.

"Well, stranger things have happened." Justin made an incredulous face, then raised his eyebrow at Brian and declared. "No wait… they really haven't."

"Okay, I guess they haven't." Brian admitted. "But there's a first time for everything." Oh God, he'd been reduced to platitudes.

"Not always." Justin contradicted. "Look – I would agree that it's been brutal trying to pretend we didn't know each other, not to mention supremely weird at times - but you really held up your end of the deal. Again." He said, somewhat bitterly. "So don't worry about it; I won't leave Gilles this late in the campaign, anyway. And since we're kind of stuck together - for a little longer anyway, we might as well see if your friendship plan is doable."

"Which means?" Brian wanted to be clear.

"Which means… it's still none of your business what I do, but I don't see why we can't continue to hang out." Justin told him with the beginnings of a smile. "Just don't think you get to tell me what to do, outside of work." He went on. "It also means that we can know each other if you want to, and be what we are: ex… whatevers, trying see if we can be friends. I guess it's worth a shot."

"Try to contain your enthusiasm." Brian grumped.

"Hey – it was your bright idea." Justin shrugged. "I'm just being cooperative."

"Is that what they call it in France?" He half smiled. "Cause at home we call that bratty and obnoxious." Brian grinned in full now. "My mistake."

"Now, see…" Justin shook his head and tried to maintain a serious face. "…for a minute there, I kinda forgot how you treated your friends. Maybe I need to rethink this…"

"Too late." Brian raised his glass. "You already agreed."

Justin looked at him and said seriously. "I'm about done with conversation, but tell me one thing – why is it so important to you that we get along on these terms?"

Brian thought this over and came up with a million things to say that would be perfect, but what actually came out was. "I'll be in France a lot more in the future, since I think Gilles' company is going to be making some serious inroads in several North American markets, and I suspect he's going to become my biggest client.."

"And what – you want me for more than one project?"

"Possibly." Brian allowed. "But I was thinking more like I'd have someone I knew here that spoke English, could take me to the best clubs, and who wouldn't think I'm lame if I want to go hang out at Jim's grave and get stoned."

"Ah." Justin said in a neutral tone.

Brian continued, and that may have been what saved him. "And it'd be nice if said person was someone I already liked, and had a good time with, and… who knows things about me that I wouldn't have to explain."

"So you want a sympathetic tour-guide on standby at all times, and you're buttering me up so I'll do it." Justin smiled a little.

"It sounds like crap when you say it." Brian complained. "But I guess that's fairly accurate."

"I suppose it's as good a reason as any." Justin told him, good-naturedly. "We have a new deal, I guess."

"Good." Brian said too casually, trying to restore some order to their world.

"Good." Justin echoed teasingly, and took a swig of his water. "Now if you don't mind, _friend_, I'm going to bed again for a couple hours."

"Justin… about the …"

"Brian." Justin interrupted him calmly. "You, of all people should appreciate that there are some things that you just don't want to discuss. Even with your friends."

"So I'm not allowed to ask about your life?"

"You can't badger me to answer questions that I don't want to." Justin clarified. "What I volunteer or you volunteer is fair game, but no prying. Okay?" Justin still didn't trust this new understanding.

Brian couldn't really blame him, considering he'd just had to hammer out those kind of rules with his mother, and his friends had all known it for years.. "Okay."

Can I ask you a question?" Brian headed off the protest. "About something else?"

Justin lifted his brows in permission and invitation.

"Why did you agree?"

Justin looked at him and debated telling the truth, and despite remaining wary of Brian's motives, he decided to stick pretty close to it. "Because you're right about us being friends, I guess. Even if I never play tour-guide for you after this, at least now you won't just remember me like… well, how we left things."

"That's not what I'd remember." Brian said, but when Justin waited for him to go on, simply smiled a little. "Ask me another time."

"Can I go now, then?" Justin asked dramatically, and with a grin, hoping things would feel less weird.

"God yes, get out." Brian groused. "You fucking keep me up at ridiculous hours and then want to drag my ass to some devil church in the middle of nowhere all weekend, when I'm already tired."

"You practically begged to go with me!" Justin protested, falling for the tease.

"I guess you do need more sleep." Brian told him with a small laugh. "You're delusional. Maybe I don't know you after all. The Justin Taylor I knew was really smart and you sound like some kind of nutcase."

"Well, this '_nutcase'_ is going to end up drawing crap tomorrow that will get us both fired, if he doesn't get two more hours of sleep." Justin walked over to his door.

"No you won't." Brian said, confidently. "And Gilles would never fire you – he thinks you're some kind of genius."

"He's right." Justin smirked mischievously, and disappeared into his room. "Later." The door shut behind him as he resolved not to think about this latest development just now. He'd deal with it later in the day, and hey – there wasn't really much to deal with anyway. So they agreed to acknowledge their past now – so what? It didn't impact their present. Justin stood by his decision to just enjoy what fun there was and be grateful for it when it was gone. He continued to be concerned about Brian's agenda, but he did feel safe here - just as he'd told the man. He could handle this.

On his own side of the door, Brian wasn't sure just what he could handle at this point. That conversation had not gone anything like he'd planned. Once Brian had surprised him by knowing more than he should, he had expected Justin to be forthcoming about what was on his mind. Obviously that didn't happen, but he did have a little more maneuvering room now and he still had some time.

For what, he didn't know. What _was_ his plan now? He wanted Justin to be happy, and though the kid professed to be happy here, Brian didn't quite buy it. Justin loved his family and his friends and being away from them for two years would not make him happy; Brian was sure of it. Justin being away from him wasn't exactly going to have Brian doing cartwheels of joy either. Besides… the kid was having visa problems anyway. That had to be a sign that he was meant to come home. Gilles' offer of assistance had been… well it hadn't been a sign, it was a… oh shit, it was a goddamn nuisance is what it was.

It meant that once more Brian was put in the position of deciding what was best for Justin and making sure things worked out that way. His conscience reminded him that, in all fairness, he didn't just end up there – he put himself there. Again.

Brian mentally threw up his hands for the moment. He was not going to figure this out right now. He needed some sleep, some perspective and maybe even some advice. Perhaps he'd say a little prayer at the church they were to visit on Sunday, he thought with amusement; the one with the devil in it. Maybe an ecclesiastical establishment like that would be more amenable to his brand of worship.

**XV ~ The Devil:** This card personifies temptation, burdens, restriction, choices and misdirection. It reflects belief in the surface rather than the inner truth of a situation. The devil represents your own fears; he is the path of least resistance. You believe you can't do anything, that you're powerless to exert control over your life. In order to escape this bondage you must alter your thoughts and actions. It's time you realized that the chains that hold you can be removed at will.

The symbolic portrayal of the Devil in the Tarot is a clear mockery of two previous Major Arcana, the Lovers and the Hierophant. The former parody is perhaps the more obvious. Where the angel hovers on the Lovers, the Devil stands on his card, cursing the man and woman rather than blessing them. They who were once connected to each other by love are now attached to the Devil by their chains of ignorance. The Devil's hand mimics the gesture of the Hierophant, but perverts it. The true Hierophant offers spiritual wisdom and beckons to us with an open hand. The Devil's gesture hides his true intentions of hurtful wisdom - not really wisdom at all.

The most important lesson the Devil teaches you is that you can free yourself from whatever restrictions are holding you back, at any time you choose to. The chains that bind the figures on the Devil card are loose enough to be thrown off at any time. There is still positive energy within you that you can tap to break free - but only if you can let go of what the Devil embodies. In the end, the best way to free yourself of the Devil's bondage is not to submit to it, but to accept it as the shadow that must be cast wherever there is light. Having accepted the shadow, you can look to the light.

Your own mindset is a critical factor when the Devil card appears. If you think darkness has won, it has. If you are willing to let others exploit and restrain you, then they can and they will. But no one has power over you unless you give it away. If you are willing to release yourself from the chains of ignorance, you can do so, and you can step into the light. Turn all that negative energy into positive energy and see how much you can accomplish when you believe you can. Take a good long look at yourself and try to see what you could not see before. Always remember, that shadow cannot exist without light, and that there is no Devil except the one you create.


	18. The Tower

A/N: I know it's been awhile, so here's a long chapter to make up for it. Whatever you think of it, I hope you'll spare two minutes to tell me. :)

_xxxx_

There had been the predictable rental car screw up at the Carcasonne station, but a few batted eyelashes, and some of what Brian had to assume was French blarney, from Justin… and they were off. He liked to think that his brand of charm would have been equally effective, but it was fun to watch Justin wield his.

"So…" Brian said, as they lugged the last bag into the suite. "How come you didn't just flirt our luggage up here? Blow your wad on the car rental girl?"

"Nothing was _blown_ with the car rental girl, and anyway - it worked, didn't it." Justin shrugged. "Sometimes speaking the language is an asset."

"We shouldn't have to suck up just to get the type of car that we reserved." Brian expected to be treated well; or at the very least he expected his gold card to be treated well. "It should have been gassed up and ready to go the minute we got there."

Justin laughed at the imperious tone. "You're just lucky that I know how to cajole in a foreign tongue."

"Cajole… now that's one I'm not familiar with. What do you do with your tongue again?"

"I knew it." Justin admonished playfully. "You're trying to take advantage of some free lessons in local parlance."

"Absolutely."

"Well… as long as that's all you're taking advantage of." Justin continued the jest. "I knew there was a reason you volunteered for the shared suite this time."

Despite the teasing tone in which it was delivered, the remark was too close to the truth and it made Brian a little defensive. "I booked the suite for convenience, Justin. I wasn't trying to be… I didn't think you'd mind. There _are_ two bedrooms you know."

He knew Brian had no interest in fucking him, considering that he'd more than had him. "Jesus… lighten up, Brian. I was joking." He gave the older man a little shove. "Besides… I'm sure you've learned better than to fuck the help. In the unlikely event you were so inclined, working for you should keep me safe." He smiled and walked his bag over to the bedroom on the right.

What do you know – an opening. "Why would you say that?"

Justin dropped his luggage inside the door to his room and turned. "I just assumed you probably learned your lesson, that's all."

"Right." Brian nodded. "I guess I was pretty lucky."

"Hmm." Justin acknowledged, as he headed to the mini bar. "You want a drink?"

"Sure." Brian put his own bags inside the door to his room. "Yeah – I was definitely lucky. That could have been a career breaker."

Justin poured both their shots and, with what Brian considered amazing aplomb, said. "Then it's a good thing the guy dropped it."

"Good," Brian agreed. "…but strange. Why sue in the first place, then?"

Justin shrugged. "His conscience must have kicked in late."

"Maybe." Brian nodded slightly, as he accepted the beverage, searching Justin's face for answers to questions he wasn't ready to ask. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"You feel like heading out and walking around for awhile?" Justin remained oblivious to the subtext of their exchange, and was excited to get a look at the old city.

"If you want." Brian didn't really care; his mind was still occupied with their non-conversation. "Early dinner?"

"Yeah maybe." Justin nodded. "Let me get changed in case we don't come back before we eat." He disappeared into his room to find something appropriate.

"Good idea." Brian leaned back and sipped his drink again. If Thomas had been telling the truth, even partly, then Brian was glad he'd never played poker with this kid. Justin hadn't given the slightest indication that he had a clue about Brian's accuser, except what he had been told. The older man held out some slim hope that this was really so, but in truth he knew better. He just didn't know what to do about it yet and so he rose, and, for now, turned his mind to what he should wear.

Justin got ready in record time, as he was anxious to get going. He finished his drink and paced the small space of the living room while he waited for Brian. What was taking him so long? He finally gave up and walked over to the man's half open door, giving it a perfunctory tap. "Hey - you decent?"

"Yeah." Brian laughed.

Justin walked in and was presented with Brian's unclad form. "Christ, Brian - I thought you said you were decent!"

The man turned and lazily shook the wrinkles from a pair of pants. "I am decent. I also happen to be naked."

"You knew what I meant." The artist looked everywhere but at the one thing he was dying to.

"Did you want something?" Brian asked, as though Justin were a little slow.

"I wanted to see what the hell was taking you so long, but obviously you had a shower." Justin started backing out of the room. "Can I expect you to be ready anytime soon, or are you going to spend your standard thirty minutes trying to perfect the '_just fucked'_ look?"

"Why?" Brian grinned and raised an eyebrow. "You offering to help me out with a short cut?"

"I don't think so." Justin had got hold of himself and managed to get over his initial discomfiture. "How about you do your hair like you just fucked someone, but then took a shower… so maybe we can get out of here."

"This from the twink who consistently had me waiting at the door while he went back for just one more thing? … _no seriously, Brian… just one more thing_…" The man mocked as he pulled up his pants and began to button them.

"That was so _not_ my fault." Justin scowled, able to look back now. "Who's the one who kept distracting me while we got ready, usually requiring me to put my clothes on no fewer than three times." He managed to contain a smile at the memory of events he referenced. "It's no wonder I kept forgetting things."

"That had nothing to do with it." Brian told him. "It was purely a control thing."

"A what?"

"A control thing." Brian insisted, as he looked for a shirt. "At least on a subconscious level."

"Whatever." Justin rolled his eyes. "Are you almost ready to go?"

"Five minutes."

Justin believed him, since, if Brian could be persuaded to actually commit to a time, he was usually prompt. There were, of course, a few exceptions to that rule, but after five minutes of fidgeting Justin found that this wasn't one of them.

"You ready?" The man announced his presence.

"Well, duh." Justin headed towards the door with Brian in tow, and tried not to notice what he was wearing. It wasn't anything special, really. Just jeans and a long sleeved olive colored T – an old one at that. Justin wasn't even aware he still had it. Once, shortly after they met and before he knew better, he remembered telling Brian that he loved him in that more than anything else because of how green it made his eyes look. The fact that is was tight enough to let him mentally sketch the musculature beneath was further appeal.

"Where to first?" Brian asked.

Justin wasn't sure how he was going to handle the hanging out now that they'd decided they knew each other again. This was the first time since the other night that they'd been together outside a work related environment. He was uncomfortable, but pretty sure he could retain his composure, provided they kept things light... and provided there were plenty of spirituous beverages involved at some point. "Let's just head out by the main gate and start from there."

Brian was agreeable to the plan and so that's what they did. Although the walled city was interesting, it wasn't very big, and a couple of hours later they'd seen pretty much all they wanted to see. It had been fun, but the effort of innocuous conversation had Justin dying for a drink. Or ten.

They settled on an outdoor restaurant in a little square that was crowded with cafes, street performers of varying descriptions, and a fairly full crowd. It was a pleasant atmosphere, however, and their table in the corner provided a comparatively quiet, but complete, view of it all.

They talked mostly about the town and the inhabitants of the square. They had always enjoyed people watching together. In fact, they'd often taken turns picking someone out and then making up a story about them. Brian's were typically more outlandish and unkind than Justin's, but they had a good time.

Justin was starting to feel a little more mellow, thanks in no small part to the amount of wine that had accompanied dinner, and the very little he'd actually eaten. Yes, he was feeling quite relaxed now.

The young man signaled the waiter for another, while Brian pretended not to tally the drinks. He'd had several himself, but not compared to his companion. The kid's lack of sleep was playing hell with his usual tolerance, and Brian noticed it in the flushed cheeks and slower speech. He wasn't wasted – just kind of…well, a little drunk.

He wasn't the sort to give anyone a hard time about drugs or alcohol, but Justin was looking pretty tired, and even Brian had been known to lay off the sauce for a while if he was under the weather.

On the plus side… the wine _had_ helped loosen Justin's tongue a little, and although Brian wasn't pressing more alcohol on him, he wasn't above taking advantage of what had already been consumed. So far the kid had been fairly forthcoming about his travels and Brian was glad to hear that he seemed to have had some fun.

"So then what?"

"Well…" Justin made a face. "… what do you think – I went back to his place."

"But you never pick the guido types at home."

"That's different." Justin shook his head. "At Babylon they're all posers. This was the real thing – Italian speech and all."

"Oh, I get it." Brian nodded with a smirk. "You have an accent fetish. I can't believe I didn't know that."

Justin took another drink and merely smiled over the rim of his glass.

"So… given this penchant for foreigners…" Brian went on "…how many nationalities do you think you've covered, and which accent is your favourite?"

"I'm not going to tell you that." Justin protested coyly.

"Come on… I'd tell you."

"Oh, I'm sure you would… with immodest detail, too." Justin acknowledged ruefully. Then he sighed when he saw Brian still gazing intently at him – waiting for an answer. "Ok - to the first question: no idea, because I wasn't counting; and second… if you ever tell anyone this – especially Fiona– well, I'll have an interesting story for Emmett the next time I email him, and it involves livestock…"

"Stop threatening me and just spill, would you."

"Fine. Irish and Scottish accents, but …especially Irish. No idea why."

"Not Australian?" Brian teased. "Cause from what I observe, you've mastered that lingo."

"Definitely not." Justin rolled his eyes. "Jesus, if I fuck one more Australian… They're awesome people, but they're all over the continent – you can't get away from them. Them and the Kiwi's; they both stay over here forever, too."

"Well, it's a long trip, so they have to make it count."

"That's pretty much what Cal says."

"And is he one of the growing number of Aussie notches on your belt?"

"Are you crazy?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing." Justin replied, as he lit a cigarette. "Except I don't fuck my friends." He took a long haul and blew it out. "In my experience, nothing good is likely to come of it."

"You're right." Brian agreed, thinking about his own situation with Michael and suspecting Justin was too. That or his ill-advised frolic with Daphne. "So… did you end up getting the jacket?"

"Nope. I went back to the leather market the next day, but I couldn't find it again. I guess I wasn't meant to have it."

"That's what you get for putting fucking before fashion." Brian admonished playfully. "You kids today – no priorities."

"You would've figured out how to fuck him and get the jacket too, I suppose."

"Of course." Brian agreed. "And was he worth sacrificing, quote '_the coolest leather jacket you've ever seen_' end quote?"

"Well, no – but how was I supposed to know that?" Justin laughed.

Surprisingly Brian was not put out by the stories of European conquests that littered the history of Justin's travels. He wasn't thrilled, of course, but he wasn't threatened either. Justin clearly viewed them all as one time flings with no meaning, and Brian knew how that went. He just wasn't used to seeing that kind of behaviour from his ex.

"Not your best time in Florence, I take it."

"To say the least." Justin agreed, then looked away, seemingly lost for a moment.

"So what was?"

"Hmm?" Justin put his attention back on his companion.

"I asked what the best thing about Florence was, other than the market."

Justin smiled, as he'd just been thinking about his favourite thing. How could he not with its flesh and blood copy right in front of him. "The Galleria dell'Accademia."

"Ah… you finally got to meet David." Naturally, they had often talked about art together and Brian knew of Justin's love for _Michelangelo_ _Buonarroti's _famous piece. Once, not long after they had met, Justin had told Brian with endearing sincerity that he believed the older man more beautiful than the sculpture could ever be. Of course he'd only seen pictures of it then. Brian found himself wondering if Justin remembered that occasion. "And do you still think so?" He gave a slight smirk to belie the seriousness of his query.

Justin's reply didn't disappoint - well, not exactly. "Let's just say…" He grinned mischievously and took another drink. "…let's just say that one of you is a very close second."

He coloured slightly and looked away, wondering if Brian would say anything if he ordered another. He knew he'd have to get good and comatose if he were to get through the night. He had no idea how he was going to cope otherwise. The suite they shared here was smaller than in Paris and there was no way he could sneak out for a run. Not without risking further comment from Brian on the matter, at least. Further – he couldn't bare the idea of being awake for hours, lying mere feet from the man, but unable to go to him. So the remaining option was to self-medicate with a very nice local vintage.

Said vintage had scrambled his brains a little, however, since he just admitted to Brian that he still felt the man rivaled _The David_. Great. Clearly there was only one thing to do. "Monsieur." He signaled their waiter.

Deciding that either way, the remark constituted a compliment, Brian was encouraged. The way Justin was knocking back the booze, however, was not so much encouraging as perplexing. He didn't want the kid getting wasted just to be around him. "What do you say we get out of here?"

"Sure, if you want." Justin checked his watch and it found it was ten o'clock. Not late enough to turn in, but they weren't likely to find much in the way of entertainment either.

The waiter approached as Justin had requested and Brian asked for their bill, then turned back to his companion. "So, what kind of trouble do you think we can get up to in a sleepy little town like this?"

"I don't know." Justin grinned. "Let's go get shit-faced and see what happens."

What happened was they hit four bars in two hours and ordered, God only knows how many, shots. After the first few you can't properly keep count anymore. He knew it hadn't really been that many, but it didn't take much. Justin had acquired some abhorrent alcoholic tastes on this trip and he had insisted that the older man sample them all with him - the newly legal Absinthe being the worst of the bunch. Hideous stuff with a hell of a buzz.

Brian was aware that he, too, was drunk to a certain extent, but their walk back to the hotel in the cool, August night air managed to have a sobering effect – at least on him.

Justin, on the other hand, was entirely in his cups. He spun around in front of Brian and barely missed tripping over his own feet. "Isn't that cool?" He was still rhapsodizing about some of the art he had seen. Brian was interested and amused for the most part, but a really drunk Justin was unpredictable.

"Isn't what cool?" He tried once more to follow the man's erratic conversation.

"That Da Vinci was proficient in so many disciplines." Justin skipped ahead, and jumped up on a ledge beside the bubbling fountain that was a block from their hotel. "God, it must be amazing to be that talented, don't you think?" He walked the wide ledge like a tightrope, but his balance left something to be desired at this point.

"What I think is that one of us is pretty loaded and, I'm sad to say, it isn't me."

Justin adopted a reasonably good, if overdone, brogue. "Sure n' Fiona says an Irishman is never drunk, so long as he can hold onto one blade of grass to keep from falling off the earth."

"Is that so?" Brian remained un-amused, given that Justin was causing him to dampen his new Gucci boots. "Well… you're in the fountain, my little Leprechaun…what would she say about that?"

"That's wrong. I'm not a Leprechaun." He shook his head, as Brian helped him up. "I've already decided to be a Selkie."

"Good for you." Brian said indulgently, as he began to lead the now dripping young man away.

"I'll make you one too, if you want." He offered seriously. "'Cause I don't think you'd like being a brownie."

"Not if they wear those lame little outfits and peddle those God awful cookies, I wouldn't."

No, not a brownie." Justin corrected earnestly. "A _brownie."_

"Oh, well – why didn't you say so." Brian humored him, then sighed in relief as he caught site of their hotel. "What's a brownie?"

"It's a fairy, of course."

"Ah." Brian twigged a little, having some vague recollection of the term from folk tales told by his grandfather. He had died when Brian was still in single digits; His age, that is, not his tricks. At any rate, he had enjoyed the old man very much as a child, and his stories were one of the reasons why. "Well, no offense, but I think I'll pass on becoming an official fairy. Too much in the way of bad joke material."

"No, no. Some are really cool." Justin insisted, but then frowned. "But not the Brownies. They're all about the whole clean vibe. Everything being tidy, you know. It sounds pretty dull to me. I know you like everything neat and all, but I think you'd get bored." Justin told him seriously.

"You might have a point."

"So we'll both be Selkies." Justin proclaimed, as they stepped into the doorway of the hotel. "Then everything will be perfect."

"Absolutely." Brian agreed amiably. "What's a Selkie?"

_xxxx_

He stood at the doorway to Justin's room and debated for the umpteenth time whether to wake the kid up. He'd poured him into his bed by 12:30 the night before and it was now ten o'clock the next morning. He was reasonably well rested himself, all things considered.

One of those considerations was the fact that when he woke up last night, he couldn't help but go look in on Justin. The kid was out like the proverbial light at first, but after fifteen minutes or so of indulgent voyeurism on Brian's part, Justin began to toss and turn. Not wishing to get caught, he confined his observation to the doorway. That is, until Justin began to mutter to himself, and seemed kind of unsettled. Brian hadn't known what was going on in the fair head, but whatever it was, it didn't wake him up.

He'd crept to the bed and sat gingerly on its side. Justin was covered in a light sweat and his forehead was wrinkled in distress, as though he were witness to something he couldn't bear to see. Brian remembered the expression well enough. He'd seen it night after night, while anonymously viewing his erstwhile lover through the door of his hospital room. At that time, Justin had been trapped in dreams that the drugs could make him sleep through, but not dismiss entirely.

So Brian did last night what he had longed to do then. "Justin." He whispered quietly. "You awake?"

There was no response other than a slight movement and Brian did not let it deter him this time. He gently brushed some hair from the youth's face and tried again. "Justin, do you hear me? It's all right." He murmured quietly. "Everything is all right now." He wasn't just trying to convince Justin of course, and he sat there until the kid settled into a deeper sleep, and then returned to his own bed.

Today he awoke with a feeling of do or die. His time was running short – he knew that. But he also felt the tenuous nature of their new arrangement and was disinclined to push. Maybe the thing to do was simply relish the day. He'd been very much enjoying Justin's company in the rare non-work related moments afforded them so far. He couldn't believe he was saying it, but maybe he should just… God help him, _go with the flow,_ and see what presented itself.

"Hey." He shook himself free from thoughts of last night and called to Justin. "Sleeping beauty."

The sheet covered lump on the bed stirred slightly.

"Come on Blondie – rise and shine!" Brian urged with sarcastic cheeriness.

The young man pried open his eyes, pulled the sheet back a little and peered towards the annoying sound. "God, Brian; it's the crack of dawn. Go away."

"Still not a morning person, I see." Brian laughed at him. "And it'll be the crack of noon if you don't get your bubble butt up and moving. Hit the shower and you'll probably feel better."

"What time is it?"

"A little before ten."

"Oh." Justin ran a hand over his face as though he could wipe the sleep from it. "Okay, I'll shower and meet you in a bit."

"Sleep okay?" Brian was curious if his nocturnal visit had been noticed.

"Fine." Justin wasn't lying. From his point of view, anything approaching eight uninterrupted hours was supreme repose indeed. He spied the half empty water glass and the Excedrin bottle on his table. He suspected that Brian was to thank for his rest, having obviously fed him some of both the night before. "I don't feel too bad, actually. How about you?"

"Good." Brian nodded. "But it wasn't me trying to out-drink the locals last night."

Justin merely scowled at him good-naturedly and yawned, stretching out his limbs to wake them too. He pulled back the covers to get up and head to his bathroom, noting that he was in his underwear and wondering if Brian had got him like that or if he'd managed to do it himself. The latter, he hoped.

Brian went back to the main room and made sure that he was ready to go when Justin was. He was looking forward to the day, but had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was the kind that can either be excitement or dread, but you don't know which until the moment arrives and you apply the correct emotion. It was probably just that he hadn't emerged as unscathed as he thought from their alcoholic activities of yesterday. Still, he felt there was more to it than that. He shrugged it off for now and got ready to go.

xxxx

"I don't believe you couldn't wait five more minutes." Brian mocked, as his companion shut the car door and settled back into his seat. "That's the second stop in forty miles."

"You're the one who claims that drinking a ton of water has a great effect on hangover symptoms; what effect did you suppose it would have on my bladder?"

Brian merely resumed their course. He'd tried to tell Justin they were no more than another few minutes or so from Rennes, but would the kid listen? Of course not. "You just didn't get to make me wait when we left this morning and you're trying to make up for it now."

"Jesus, not that control bullshit again." Justin rolled his eyes.

"Bullshit, or not, it's true." Brian insisted, serenely. "It's how you exert power – in small ways like that."

"Listen, I took Psychology 101 too, okay, and I'm telling you – you're imagining things."

"Well, I took enough Psych to minor in it and _I'm_ telling _you_ – it's completely transparent, however unconsciously motivated."

"You really think I decided a good way to control you is to make you wait for me all the time? Sounds more like a good way to piss you off."

"Oh, it did." Brian confirmed. "But you didn't get your way much… so I over looked it. You don't get to bug me now, though." He warned teasingly.

"I'm sorry…what?" Justin cocked his head, as though he were sure his hearing must be off. "You _over looked_ it?"

Brian knit his brows in confusion. "I just meant I didn't make it a big deal at the time, I …"

"You over – _fucking _- looked it?" Justin demanded angrily. "Like you would overlook some puppy chewing on your Pradas… simply because it was cute."

Brian knew he'd made a mammoth mistake here so, naturally, began to compound it. "Don't be ridiculous - you know how I feel about my shoes… especially my Pradas." He tried to look serious again. "Come on…I didn't fucking mean it like that."

"Oh no?" Justin disputed. "You treated me like a child, Brian – and not a very bright one, either."

Whoa – where had all this aggression come from? The older man was confused by it and not a little bit annoyed. "Right… of course." He rolled in his lips a second and nodded his head. "How interesting that any problem between us usually involved me being in the wrong. "

"Not really interesting so much as true..." Justin shot back.

"Yeah? Except it wasn't _me_ out breaking every rule we had." Without thinking, Brian had returned fire. Oh shit. Too late to cram the words back in.

He willed himself to say nothing and not to look over, because he had no idea how to come back from that last. He'd meant it, of course, and Justin knew it. All the more reason it was useless to attempt a retraction.

"Well..." Justin let out a very long breath. "I kind of wondered how long it would take you to throw that one at me and, I have to say, I've been very impressed by your restraint."

"I… Justin, I didn't mean to say that." Brian sighed in resignation. "Christ, I didn't want to pick a fight with you, but…

The young man interrupted with a noise of bemused mirth, and looked out at the swiftly passing scenery.

Naturally, that just pissed Brian off even more. He sincerely attempts a truce and the kid has the nerve to be amused by it. "Do you mind telling me what is so fucking funny?"

Justin turned back to face him, a trace of a smile still present. "It's just…you think we're fighting…" He shook his head and looked back out the window. "…and I think we're finally communicating."

After a moment, Brian spoke up again. "You don't think we communicated? We talked all the time."

Justin gave him a _look_. He had many looks, and he wasn't shy about sharing them.

"Okay, I know what you mean." Brian admitted, finally. "But it isn't exactly my forté."

Justin emphatically agreed. "No shit."

"You know… I think I liked it better when we didn't know each other."

"Hey - preaching to the choir."

Each man retreated into silence and wondered how they'd managed to fuck the day up so impressively before lunch.

Surprisingly, Justin was the one to negotiate an armistice this time. "I deserved it, all right? I know that."

"I didn't mean…"

"Yeah, you did. But it's ok. Like I said – I had it coming." Justin cut him off. "But now that you've pointed it out and I've copped to it – can we consider the matter dropped? If you need to yell at me, or whatever, that's your right. Only, do it now so we can get it over with."

"I don't want to yell at you." Brian assured him quietly. "Not yet, anyway. Why…you're not going to chew on my shoes are you?" He attempted a smile.

As was Brian's intention, Justin couldn't keep a straight face and began to laugh grudgingly. "God… you are the most frustrating person I have ever met."

"Well, somebody had to be."

"Congratulations." Justin mock saluted. "Now could we just drop this stupid discussion and hurry up please? I need some lunch; I'm getting cranky."

"Getting?" Brian raised his eyebrows.

"Stop being a smart ass and pay attention. I think that's the entrance."

Brian pulled onto the small road and drove up the hill, looking around skeptically. "Are you sure this is it?" He questioned the tiny village as being a legitimate tourist spot. Granted, it was supposed to be a cult attraction, but still – he had expected something bigger and more impressive looking.

"I'm sure. You should have checked out the web site with me."

"This place has a web site?"

"Just park, would you?" Justin laughed at the dubious tone of his companion.

"Pretty bossy for someone who's technically my employee." Brian mumbled ruefully, glad they were back in the friend zone.

"It's my day off; now park the car."

"Yes sir."

Justin grinned at the sarcasm. "Sir… I like that sound of that."

"Don't get used to it. Monday morning will be here soon enough and you'll be back to working for me."

They locked the doors and began walking up the path towards what passed for the main drag, as it were.

Justin was glad they had been able to leave the argument behind. He still had hopes that this visit with Brian would give him enough memories to live on after the man was gone again, and then he could go about setting up his life here for now. He didn't really want to spoil their pleasant outing with talk of the past. There was nothing to be done about it anyway, so rehashing it seemed pointless. All right, it seemed painful too, but either way – he wasn't interested in doing it. Not when things were, for the most part, going so pleasantly.

"What's the deal with this place again?" Brian interrupted his musing.

"It's supposed to have ties to the Knights Templar." Justin explained. "But there are several theories about it. I forget his name, but there was this priest appointed to the church in the late 1800's. He had the church renovated and supposedly when he was doing that he found these wooden tubes in one of two pillars dating from the time of the Visigoths. People say that they contained some sealed parchments with cryptic messages on them. Messages important enough to send him to Paris, but I guess it wasn't clear what the messages were about. Anyway, there are a ton of rumors, but whatever happened, when he came back from Paris he was a very rich man.

"Hmm." Brian nodded. "So where'd he get all the money?"

"That's most of the mystery – nobody knows. But the theory I like is that he really found the genealogical records of Jesus."

"Big deal. I thought it was common knowledge that JC was a bastard."

"Brian!"

"What?" The man shrugged innocently. "I meant in the traditional sense. I wasn't impugning his personality or anything; He was probably a great guy."

"Yeah." Justin smirked. "I'm sure he's just the kind of person you'd hang out with."

"Well, too skinny for my taste, of course, but I always suspected he was that way inclined. Besides – anyone who can turn water to wine, and whip up bread and salmon hors d'oeuvres for a mob is someone I want at my parties."

"You're brutal. One of these days you're gonna get hit by lightening." Justin admonished him, as he walked along side the man. "And don't talk about food – I'm starving."

"I assume there is a restaurant in this haunted little hamlet?"

"It's our first stop. It should be just around the next building, I think."

"My treat." Brian offered.

"No, it's my turn." Justin countered.

"I thought you didn't want to argue?"

"I don't."

"Is this you not arguing?" Brian questioned. "'Cause you suck at it"

"Fine – we'll go dutch."

"Now who's being brutal?" Brian gave him a little shove. They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence.

Brian, too, was thankful that the argument seemed past. He would've liked to pursue some of the topics raised, but knew it would ruin the day. He wanted to have an extended period of down time with his ex; otherwise he wasn't going to be able to make a very convincing case for trying again.

He was aware that there were things troubling Justin and he intended to get to the bottom of them, and fix them – just like he always did. After that, he'd see how things went.

How they were going so far was pretty frustrating, of course. He had never expected Justin to be quite so difficult and frankly, if this was the flow, he wasn't sure he was too impressed with it.

"Earth to Brian." Justin called him back from the land of speculation.

"What?"

"You were zoning."

"I was just soaking it all in." He looked around them, and then up at the sign above the doorway. "Something tells me the menu here is limited."

"Don't worry –I'm sure they'll at least have wine, cheese and bread. How can you go wrong?"

_xxxx_

They didn't go wrong, of course; in fact, things went very right. The two Americans were lucky enough to meet an English speaking guide and his small party, as they were finishing up lunch. Barry, now their guide as well, was a Canadian archaeologist who had lived in France for over a decade with his French wife and their two boys. He had been delighted to include the men in his group.

The tour had been fascinating and when they heard the amount of detail that Barry was able to provide them with, couldn't imagine having seen the place without him. Particularly cool was the way he could pick up a bone fragment, in the several times turned cemetery, and tell you what body part it came from.

He recounted at length the history of the church and surrounding buildings and supplied some of the more prevalent rumors about what exactly had been discovered there by Father Saunière.

Some say that he found the treasure of Solomon first taken to Rome when Titus took Jerusalem in 70 AD; then, in 410 AD, the Visigoths took Rome and hid the Solomon treasure in Rhaedae, which was one of their capitals; Rhaedae being the present day Rennes-le-Chateau.

It had also been said that Saunière discovered alchemy books in Lavaldieu. He would then have been able to transmute metals and create a fortune. Following occult tradition he did not use the treasure for himself. Instead he built the library, the villa and the community church as well as public roads to the village.

Another theory would be that the "treasure" may have come from the Cathars. It could have been "valuables" or some "dangerous" Cathars writings. It is also possible that Saunière was in fact a late Cathars. The church he built would then be a reflection of his beliefs, which would explain the reversed stations of the cross, and the devil holding up the font at the entrance.

Justin's preferred theory was mentioned as well, and Barry was able to elaborate on it. He explained that the genealogical records were alleged to show that Jesus survived the crucifixion and escaped to the South of France where he founded the Merovingian family. He was supposed to have been married to Mary Magdalene and had children with her who became the Merovingian dynasty of French Kings. Saunière, it was supposed, received some money from the Vatican to keep quiet. According to this theory, the Church was afraid of the dangers for the Catholic faith if such a story was divulged.

Brian knew he was supposed to be getting along better with his mother, but hearing all this quasi-blasphemous talk caused him to feel perversely satisfied – like he was putting one over on her again. When he was a boy he had really hated going to church with her and still did; what's more, he couldn't understand how it was that she was so devout. She was born Protestant, but for as long as Brian could remember, took them to the Catholic church in Jack's parish, despite the fact that Jack never accompanied them. Then, as soon as his father died and a Catholic priest had buried him, she returned to the Protestants. For all this, she never uttered a word as to why.

He suddenly realized that he was in the perfect place to find a gift for her. All she had to know was that he got it at some famous French church. The more ecclesiastically offensive elements of the gift's origin he could keep to himself.

When they finished, Justin got Barry's email address in order to look into future tours. Brian would admit that he had some interest in going on the man's wine trip, as he was very knowledgeable on the subject, and honestly – was just really pleasant company. Apparently Justin thought so too.

"Was he awesome, or what?" Justin grinned. "Not to mention completely cute."

"Not to mention completely straight." Brian reminded him. "And not to mention – _way_ too old for you."

Justin scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm just saying…" Brian shrugged, then stopped in front of the gift shop. "Hey, come in with me for a sec."

"You want a book about the place?"

"Maybe … but first I need to find a gift for my mother."

"A what for your _who the fuck did you say_?"

"Yeah, I know." Brian scrunched up his nose, as he opened the door and they walked in. "I forgot to tell you about that."

"About what?" Justin was aghast. "You're making me nervous."

"It seems that the good Rev has been filling her head with actual Christian ideals, and she is awkwardly attempting to put them into practice. Unfortunately, she's practising on me." Brian began browsing the book section, though he had no clue what title would interest his mother.

"Sounds like your attempt to let her is equally awkward."

"Maybe a little." Brian glared, then returned his gaze to the shelf in front of him. So, the little fucker still had a decent bead on his psyche - how annoying. "Anyway, don't ask me how, or what drug I must have been on, but I found myself promising to bring her back something. Can you believe that?"

"I don't think _no_ is a strong enough word."

"No shit." Brian nodded. "Now be nice and help me pick out something here that she'll actually use, so I can have the secret pleasure of knowing that it's of dubious holy origin."

"She was right the first time." Justin told him. "You _are_ going to hell."

Brian just grinned wickedly at him and continued to browse. He wasn't sorry to be mending fences, or at least building new ones with his mother... he just wasn't ever going to count on her as a constant in his life. However, if there was a way to work her in, at least a little, then he was interested in doing so. Justin probably had that figured out too, the little shit. Speaking of whom…

"How about one of these?"

"One of what?" Brian walked over to a display case that Justin was leaning over.

"One of these crosses." Justin pointed to the second row of jewelry. "They're detailed without being garish, and I think they're small enough that she'd probably wear it. The printing is in French too, so it's obvious where it's from."

"Good idea." Brian nodded. "Which would you pick?"

"Third from the left." Justin responded immediately, having decided already. "What do you think?"

"I think you have good taste." Brian smiled, as he gestured to the clerk and got out his credit card. "Thanks."

_xxxx_

They had spent most of the drive rehashing their favourite parts of the tour and their guide's anecdotes. "How freaky that a whole village is literally built on secrets and lies." Justin concluded.

"And I was right." Brian added. "It _was_ like an Umberto Eco novel."

"It's a mystery, that's for sure." Justin looked out the window at the passing terrain, wondering why he had let Brian drive again, but not really caring.

Brian, in addition to driving, was flashing back to another time when Justin had said words to that effect. He wondered if it was a sign and then promptly chastised himself for getting caught up in that crap. The truth was, however, that he had been desperately wishing for one.

Now, the problem with signs is… you never know when to read them. As he looked ahead, he saw the ever-darkening skies of Montpellier fast approaching. The city was covered in clouds and what looked very much like rain. The closer they got, the damper the air seemed to feel.

The upcoming weather could be considered a sign too, and what the fuck was he supposed to do if they all seemed to be conflicting. This metaphysical, just go with the flow, philosophy was not helping him at all, damn it. He had absolutely no patience for it.

"Play a game with me." Justin entreated, having had his fill of the scenery for now.

Brian shook his head. "I am _not_ playing '_I spy'_, with you again." They'd played three different games on the drive up and that was hardly his favourite. "And I don't care if it is practice for Gus." That being how he got suckered the first time.

Justin laughed. "Not that kind of game." He was bored, but he was also interested in seeing if he could get Brian to open up a little more, as he had recently. It wasn't that he revealed anything big, of course, but it had made Justin feel inexplicably good on the few occasions it occurred. "Not a car game." He continued to explain. "More like… I don't know…like your cow story."

"You want to play a game about barn yard animals?" Brian asked, tongue in cheek. "Kinky."

"No – I mean… I want you to tell me something else like that. Something I haven't heard before. And then I'll tell you something."

"Well, there was this one time with a sheep, but…"

"Cut it out – I'm serious." Justin admonished around his laughter. "Tell me something I'll find surprising."

"Surprising? Like what?"

"I don't know…like anything. As long as it's true."

"I don't think I'd do very well at that." Brian demurred.

But Justin was persistent. "Try."

"Umm…."

"Well?"

Fuck it… now or never. "I know that you got the harassment suit dropped."

There was a long moment of silence. "Wow…you're really good at this game."

"That's all you're going to say?"

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

Brian let out an annoyed huff. "How about that Kip Thomas is a fucking liar."

"I think we knew that already, didn't we?" Justin tried to quell his rising panic with mockery.

"You know what I mean." Brian was not going to back off now that he'd finally brought it up. "What the fuck were you _thinking_?"

The younger man turned to glare. "Oh …because your decision making skills around the guy really shone? Why can't you just be happy that everything worked out and forget it?"

"Grateful?" Brian was incredulous. "I'm supposed to be happy that some asshole humiliates me, tarnishes my professional reputation and almost costs me my job… and then, to top it all off, fucks my boyfriend?"

"Wait just a minute…I was _not_ your boyfriend, and that's just the first of several things wrong with that sentence."

"Be more specific."

"He didn't fuck me." Justin responded after a moment. "He had my dick in his mouth for like… twenty seconds. Basically the amount of time it took him to clue in that I was underage with a homophobic father who has the cops on speed dial."

"Jesus… it's still…." Brian didn't know what to say.

"Hello – you're the one that actually fucked him, so I don't know where you get off acting repulsed now." Justin made apparent his amazement. "Look - it wasn't a big deal, okay… and the important thing is that it worked."

That was not what Brian had been hoping to hear. He wasn't sure what he _had_ been hoping for, but that definitely wasn't it. "Even if that's all you did – it was dangerous, Justin…on a lot of levels, and… he shouldn't have had his hands on you at all."

"Brian, do you know how many men have had their hands on me?" Justin gave a cheerless laugh. "Their dicks in my mouth, or mine in theirs… not to mention…"

"Then _don't_… mention it." Brian interrupted with a slight grimace that went unseen. "He was different and you know it."

Justin said nothing.

"And Sap was different."

"Why?" Justin demanded. "What makes it different?"

"Christ…" Brian cursed in frustration. "Because you're better than that… that's why."

"So, I'm supposed to be this untouched innocent still?" He turned back to the dashboard window, noting the gloom that gathered ahead, weeping over their destination. "Boy, have I got news for you."

"I wasn't aware I'd corrupted you to the point where you'd become such a sarcastic little fucker." Brian turned his eyes back to the road as well.

"Corrupted me?" Justin scoffed. "Jesus - you're not buying into that bullshit, too? I thought you knew better than the rest of them." He leaned across the seat a little and into Brian's space. "Did it ever occur to you that I'm a lot like you… that we have things in common… that maybe, in some ways, I'm simply a more recent version of you and your narcissistic nature just couldn't resist me." He turned back to the dismal view ahead. "For awhile anyway."

Brian took a breath and asked the inevitable question. "Why did you do it?"

Justin shrugged. "You could have lost everything if it went to court, and I like my sugar daddies rich. "

"Bullshit." Brian said quietly.

"Fine …then you tell me."

"How should I know?"

"Well, you don't believe _my_ answer, so you must have developed some theory of your own." He logically pointed out. "Why do you think I did it?"

The last thing Justin expected to hear was the truth. "Maybe because you loved me and you wanted to help me."

"I thought you didn't believe in love."

"Are we going to talk about this?"

"I don't think so… no."

"Justin, you can't expect me to just forget everything because you say …."

"I remember the prom."

The confession had been voiced quietly, but the squeal of tires following, seemed to indicate that Brian had heard it clearly. He slammed on the emergency brake and turned to Justin. "You win."

_xxxx_

Perhaps it _hadn't_ been the best way to say it, Justin admitted to himself. Actually he hadn't intended to say anything at all, but it just kind of slipped out. He'd been desperate to get the other matter dropped, because he couldn't bear another second of Brian's misplaced reproach over it …and how _the fuck_ did he find out, anyway.

That was exactly what he was standing here on the edge of a vineyard in the ever-increasing humidity, wondering. Not that it really mattered, though, because in his panic over _that_ cat being out of the bag, he'd liberated another himself. He had a feeling that the feline fights he'd heard in the alley behind the diner would sound positively tuneful compared to what Brian was going to say to him.

Unless, of course, the man had the sense not to follow him over here into the damp grass and was, perhaps, willing to leave it all alone. No such luck, of course.

"There you are."

"Thanks, I was wondering where I was." The young man took out a cigarette and lit it.

"Justin… come back to the car."

"I'm not interested in what you have to say right now."

"I didn't get to say _anything_; you bolted the second we stopped." Brian came up beside him now. "Are you all right?"

"I just wanted a smoke." Justin refused to look at him, but did offer the pack.

Brian took one. "You really remember?"

"Oddly enough, that's what I meant when I said, 'I remember.'"

Narrowing his eyes at the sarcastic response, Brian asked tightly. "When?"

"In my first few weeks here." Justin took another haul, as though to fortify himself. "I was in Rome."

Brian felt sure his anxiety must be apparent; he could barely light his smoke. This was crazy. They were both crazy. "Did something happen that I don't know about…"

"No." Justin cut him off. "I just woke up from a dream one night and this time it stayed with me."

"What do you remember, exactly?"

"I don't know… maybe it was just a dream… maybe I was wrong." Justin faltered; annoyed with the added pressure he'd put on himself. Brilliant diversionary tactic, Taylor. "I don't really want to get into this."

"Just tell me, and we'll see if it was a dream."

"It doesn't matter." Justin told him, crossly. "I don't care anymore."

"What?" Brian was beyond stunned. "Since when?"

"Since I just don't." Justin snapped. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about Kip, either. I just want to forget the whole thing!"

Brian took a drag and tried to think… and then tried not to. "You weren't going to tell me, were you."

Silence… and then a subdued, "I don't know."

"I'm going to try hard not to understand the implications of that." Brian's jaw muscle twitched.

"The only implication is that I wasn't sure if you'd care."

"Fuck you, Justin." Brian threw down the smoke, and moved to stand in front of his ex. "I can't believe this shit."

Justin realized that maybe he'd been a bit off side. Of course Brian would care at least a little. "Look, I'm sorry if…"

Before he could finish, Brian's mouth crashed down over his, cutting him off. His tongue sought to assault Justin, licking at the younger man's mouth in a frenzy that made him abandon all good sense and clutch desperately at the back of Brian's head. He gasped against the man's lips, head swimming and legs feeling unsteady at the urgency of the kiss. It was like the storm they'd watched growing larger on the horizon; it too was dangerous, but exhilarating to be caught in.

It was as much to keep him from saying more terrible things, as anything else; but also, it was that Brian hadn't known what else to do. When he hurt, he fucked; it was as simple as that. And Justin had wounded him terribly by the suggestion that Brian wouldn't care. Of course, Justin was also the only available body for release, so that made things… interesting.

Not that the blond could ever be just another body. Brian had wished off and on, for the better part of two years, that it were so, but it simply wasn't. There could be no comparison between anyone else and the young man now starting to return the embrace with more enthusiasm. One hand tangled in Brian's hair, drawing him ever closer and the other, clutched Brian's arm. The cigarette still smoldered uselessly in Justin's fingers, its embers paling next to the fire of several months' pent-up emotion and lust. But it all came pouring out now; the brutality of Brian's kiss expressing his outrage more than words ever could.

Justin thought he felt it expressing something else after a moment, as those soft lips moved along his jaw and towards the tender spot joining his shoulder and neck. Brian was gentler now, but just as insistent and Justin gave in to the long missed sensations washing over him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he shouldn't he be upset at this situation… Brian taking control yet again? Probably. But he was too exhausted to be upset. Or perhaps he just didn't care anymore. Or maybe… maybe he'd be willing to put up with anything in order for Brian to touch him like this.

He was all but convinced of that last theory, tossing his head back to give the man more access to his throat. But just as Brian's lips closed over the pulse point and began to suck, Justin felt a sharp pain in his hand and dropped the burnt out cigarette, it having re-established his link to reality. Okay, so he'd already lost his mind, but his self-control remained intact.

"No." He whispered, pushing at Brian's arm a little and struggling to get away from temptation. "No… Brian, let go." He turned and took a step away, trying to gather his wits about him.

He knew there was a trick here and it was probably him. Brian had often used sex to rein Justin in… keep a certain amount of control over him, and until a few months before he'd left, he'd though they did it to each other; that it was an exchange of power. He later grew to understand that he was powerless in their relationship, and that Brian, however well intentioned at times, ran the show.

But, that was back in old Pittsburgh, P.A., where he didn't have the strength that he had here. He tried to remember that he didn't intend to live there anymore; not in that city and not in that weak state of mind. However, he supposed he couldn't blame Brian for trying what had always worked in the past.

"I don't want this." Justin spoke again, making himself understood, he hoped.

The other man's voice remained close to him, however. Too close. "Don't want what, exactly?"

"Any of this… all of it." Justin gestured at the chaos he felt, by rights, should be visibly manifesting around them. All that proceeded to manifest, however, was mist from the ever expanding storm. "I don't want the interrogations… the deep dark secrets…"

"Hey, you started it, Sunshine."

"Well, I'm finishing it." He insisted defiantly, despite the remark's cliché status. "And I definitely don't want… well… anything else."

"Really." Justin didn't have to be facing him, to know that the man had his lips rolled in, displaying the standard, Brian Kinney 'bullshit' alarm. "Turn around."

He felt the first drops of rain, but was disinclined to run for the shelter of the car… though he knew they couldn't stand there all day. "Brian, let's just forget we…"

"Would you just fucking look at me, please." Brian said calmly, rather confused as to what was going on here, but wanting to keep things as peaceful as possible until he got a handle on the situation.

Justin turned around to face him, eyes alternating between the wet grass and the wet sky. The latter, now providing copious camouflage, should this scene get any worse. "What is it?"

"You really think we can just… not talk about this?"

"Works for me."

"I beg to differ." Brian disagreed, ignoring the rain that fell ever more enthusiastically on them both. "I don't think it's working very well at all."

"And that's supposed to mean what exactly?" Justin felt annoyed again, rather than scared. Good. Annoyance nurtured anger… anger gave birth to sarcasm… sarcasm was a weapon with which to defend oneself and he felt safer when he was armed. Unfortunately, his opponent was a veritable, verbal fencing master, and one of his better teachers.

"It means… what the fuck is going on?" Brian couldn't contain it any longer. "It means that I want to know why in the space of a few months you've altered your entire life. You not only decide you're not coming home, but you pick up bad drinking habits, bad sleeping habits, and, apparently, everything with a dick. I hear they're one time only tricks… that you treat like shit, by all accounts. So, what is this… the sincerest form of flattery, or something?"

"You've obviously been misguided." Justin mustered up every ounce of righteous indignation at his disposal. ""I'm perfectly happy, and I can assure you - I have no need to go slumming in your persona."

"Is that so?" Brian remained steadfast in the face of Justin's denials. "Then apparently you've acquired a hell of drug habit, because the stories I've heard must have some kind of pharmaceutical explanation."

"You don't know shit about my life here."

"I know what I heard that morning in your room, and what I've observed since then. I think I can safely say that, yeah – things are a little out of hand." Brian's sarcasm illuminated the understatement.

"This conversation is over." Justin announced after a moment, suddenly calmer. He'd reached that point where he had to turn that little switch. The one that reduced his emotions to a low simmer until he could get somewhere safe, then run them, or drink them, or fuck them away. Sometimes all three in rapid succession, if not simultaneously. "You can keep talking if you want to, but I'm out of here."

"You don't even know where here is." Brian dismissed the statement as a drama queen standard.

"Wrong." Justin informed him. "We are exactly four miles from Montpellier and I can easily walk it. I have before."

Damn. Brian had hardly been counting on that. But then he hadn't counted on any of this and was thus spectacularly unprepared for it. Nor was he prepared to let the kid walk around in this soup. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ah, so we've moved on to the name calling. Good to know." Justin wrapped his acerbic attitude around him like a cloak of invisibility with which to shield his feelings. He hoped it worked, because they were damn close to the surface. Exactly where and when had his perfectly planned weekend gone all to hell? He needed to get somewhere he could be alone and have the nervous break down he'd earned.

"We haven't moved anywhere except one step closer to pneumonia, if we keep standing around in this shit." Brian said rationally, realizing that a temporary retreat might be in order. He definitely felt the need to regroup. "Just get in the car and let me drive you back. I won't say anything else."

Justin looked up and challenged him with a glare. "You swear – no trapping me in the car?"

"I promise." An easy promise to make, actually, since he hadn't a fucking clue what _to_ say. And if Justin had any ideas, he wasn't sharing them. Nothing more was said as they walked back, trying to avoid the growing puddles.

And so reined silence for the remainder of the drive. Brian was absurdly grateful that the rental came with a radio, which he immediately pressed into service after starting the car. He noted morosely that they hadn't needed it before this. Up until their last 'game', the weekend had been largely pleasant and full of conversation.

He had a bad feeling that, while not really much of a conversation per se, that last might well _be_ their last. Up until then he had been moderately hopeful, despite the talk of living in France, that he and Justin might be able to put something together, eventually – even if it took him more than one trip. At the moment, however, he was lost. Practically every overture had been met with suspicion and a defensive demeanor. He had no idea what to try now – he really didn't.

Furthermore, Justin's revelation had been utterly unforeseen, and Brian still had not processed it. He wasn't sure how he had expected to feel if Justin ever remembered, but certainly not like this. Fuck – the kid wouldn't even open up enough to tell him precisely what he remembered.

Maybe it _had_ been just a dream and Brian was still alone in his recollection. He had no way of knowing, but he intended to find out. He just wasn't sure right now how that was going to happen. While navigating the city streets towards Justin's hotel he tried a little damage control. "You know, you can't be mad at me for something that, technically, you started."

"I'm not mad." Justin said neutrally. "I'm tired. There's a difference."

"I see." Brian nodded. "So that's why you don't want to talk about …things. You're too tired?"

"In a manner of speaking, but pick any reason that will make you happy, Brian." Justin offered serenely. "I'll take the blame for the conversation if you like, but I won't continue it."

"And that seems fair to you?"

"I'm not over here to concern myself with being fair to anyone but myself for a change." Came the forthright reply. "And you're only here for a little while longer, during which time I don't really want to fight… and I don't think you want to either."

"So?"

"So let's not." He suggested simply

"Fine." What else could Brian say. The kid had left him with no alternative. For now, at least. "Then tomorrow we're just business as usual… forget the whole thing?"

"Like I said…. works for me."

It didn't work for Brian one little bit. "We meeting at five?"

Justin still had every intention of giving his all to Gilles' campaign. "Of course."

"I'll buy dinner." It was a test.

"I'll let you." Was the conciliatory answer.

Brian smirked at himself - the man who never went after anyone - still trying in the face of repeated rejection. This was a good laugh on him and not a soul who could appreciate it, what with no one knowing him here and Justin clearly some kind of pod person. Christ, he needed… he didn't know what he needed at this point. Curiously, he hoped to find Gilles at home.

"Drop me at Fee's, okay?" His companion directed. After the trauma of the last hour, Justin felt the need for a little warmth and comfort. Oh, and in addition to borrowing from her bar, he wouldn't mind seeing Fiona. He'd missed her.

_xxxx_

"You really didn't see it?"

"I've not." Fiona insisted. "And I don't see how it's much of a feminist movie if they kill themselves."

Gilles laughed at the observation. He couldn't believe the woman had not seen her silver screen look-a like. "You must have been to at least one of her films, I'm sure of it. I simply can't think of them all at the moment."

"Well, why don't you just tell me whether it's a compliment, and we'll leave it at that?"

"It is most assuredly a compliment." Gilles pledged, as the door to the café opened and a dripping young man dashed through it.

"Justin!" Fiona rushed over for a hug, not having seen him for a week. "Oh… you're drenched."

"I'll say. I think I saw fish in the gutters."

"It's been a fine day for young ducks." Fiona agreed. "Now, how was yours?"

He was about to answer truthfully, when he spotted Gilles. "It was nice." He said neutrally, then crossed to the man at the bar, and shook his hand. "Hey Gilles."

"Justin – so glad you're back." The man greeted him heartily. "Is Brian with you?"

"Umm… no – he went home." Justin explained, weakly. "I mean… he went to your place. I think maybe he had work to do."

"That sounds like him." Gilles concluded cheerfully, while noting the awkward answer, and exchanging looks with Fiona.

"Justin, luv." She interrupted. "Pop in and pester Marc, why don't you. And that Andrew's probably on his third dinner break by now, too. They'll want to see you."

"Will you be staying Gilles?"

The man made surreptitious eye contact with Fiona again, and answered. "I was just about make my way home."

"I'll probably see you tomorrow then."

"Actually…" Gilles seemed a little flustered.

Fiona jumped in and rescued her would be suitor. "Tomorrow he's taking the day off for a change, and wasting some time with me."

"Time with you is always well wasted." Justin assured her gallantly.

"This is why I missed you laddie; you blarney with the best." She patted his cheek, which she knew he hated. "Now, off to the kitchen. I dare say you could stand another supper yourself. Come see me when you've eaten and not before."

"Okay." He smiled, relieved in a way to be given direction. It showed how much she cared, which made him feel a little better. "Good night, Gilles. See you Tuesday." And with a mischievous little smirk, he disappeared into the kitchen.

"You weren't really going to leave me just yet?" Fiona turned back to her prospective beau.

"Certainly not." Gilles smiled. "But didn't you get the impression you had work to do?"

"I did." She nodded. "I don't know what they've done now, but I wager that you have your own work cut out for you at home."

"I don't generally broach personal subjects with Brian – not without clear invitation. He's a very private man, you know."

"Well, it may be he'll volunteer, depending on how bad it was or…. What is it?" She asked, noting his now chagrined expression.

"As soon as you said the part about going badly, I remembered … Delphine is at the house, using my office."

"Off with you then." She gave him a peck on the cheek and urged him out. "That daughter of yours is an angel, but she'd worry the hind leg off a cat."

"If that means she'll harass him until he either tells her everything or goes mad, then yes – she certainly would." He waved and was out the door. "À demain."

_xxxx_

Justin came back from the kitchen, considerably more relaxed than when he went in, and no longer needing to borrow a bottle. He'd intended to ask Fiona for the loan of some scotch, with the intention of replacing it tomorrow. He'd done that before when the stores were closed and he couldn't sleep. However, upon his arrival in the kitchen, he'd discovered that Andy _wasn't_ having a third dinner, though he'd probably be after one later; he was out back smoking a spliff with Marc.

Apparently Cal's local contact was finally holding, which meant that Justin could avoid any lectures from Fee on the health of his liver – although he knew she would've caved eventually. As it was, Andy had assumed Justin would be interested too, and went halves on an ounce with him. That ought to be several weeks decent sleep, with nothing in the way of hangover. Now the booze could go back to being purely recreational.

"Did you get to Rennes, all right?" Fiona asked him, as he finished hiding the ziploc bag of weed in his pack, and closed the take out container Marc had sent home with him.

"Yeah." He sat down next to her, knowing he wasn't getting away without at least a short talk, and realizing he couldn't be less than honest because she'd spot it in a minute.

"So…. tell me the details; how did the weekend go?" She'd had high hopes for it, despite the fact that he'd told her they were being friendly – nothing more. But then she was behind on several recent developments.

"On a scale from one to ten? It sucked."

"Don't tell me that." She wailed, putting her hand to her chest. "When you called on Thursday you said everything was just grand."

"I don't know about grand… but yeah – things were okay."

"Well, what's happened? Gilles said nothing of a problem."

"Fee, I swear to tell you– I'm just really tired right now." He knew she'd understand him. "I will say this – Brian and I have agreed to drop the whole 'don't know each other' thing. I know it was dumb, but I needed a certain distance. And, frankly, I was hoping it would make it impossible to bring up certain things."

"That got brought up anyway?" Fiona sympathized, though she'd known it would have to come to that.

"Something along those lines, yeah."

"I'm sorry darlin', I really am." She patted his shoulder affectionately. "Are you speaking to one another, still?"

"Well, we didn't say much after the kiss, but I guess we…."

"I beg your feckin' pardon?"

"Oh… yeah – long story short – he kissed me out of nowhere."

"Well, why didn't you say so? It didn't go as badly as it might have, then."

"Fee, he was mad as hell over something I said and he uses sex like a weapon; he basically kissed the equivalent of dropping a small safe on my head. That is, until I pulled away and probably pissed him off even more."

"Well, I didn't say it went perfectly." Fiona saw his point.

"Listen, I'll see you tomorrow? We'll have our Q&A then?" He gave her a weak smile.

"Brunch it is." She nodded. "Eleven."

"I thought you were _wasting time_ with Gilles?"

"Not until half twelve."

"Mm hmm… well I expect an exchange of personal information, then. I want to hear about your weekend, since it sounds like you've been getting some."

"Go on with you." She blushed a little – which was hardly like Fee. "I'm not getting anything yet except a pain in my neck and, oh wait – it's you."

"But you love me, anyway." Justin smiled coyly, needing to hear an answer and not sure why.

"I do, that." She assured him affectionately, as he made for the door.

She could tell he'd had a day that had left him completely drained, which is what he'd meant by being tired. When he said it like that, what he was really saying was that he wasn't even up to conversation, and that one more thing could send him into meltdown mode. So Fiona wisely agreed to wait until he'd had a chance to restock his emotional reserves. "Sleep well, luv." She hoped the marijuana he thought she didn't know about might see to that.

_xxxx_

"But Brian… I'm a woman – I can help with these things. Women are much better than men, even gay ones, at feelings and nonsense like that."

Just as Gilles feared, Delphine was… what was it? Chopping the hind leg off Brian's cat? He wasn't sure he had mastered the metaphor.

"Del – you just called it nonsense." Brian pointed out. "I doubt very much you're any better at it than I am."

"Oh, you're just nit-picking so you don't have to share. I knew I shouldn't have spilled my gossip first… again." She stuck her tongue out just as Gilles entered the kitchen and found them having coffee. He suspected Delphine of the mess in the sink, but at least that meant they'd eaten.

"I see you are displaying your usual charm, my dear." Gilles teased her. "Now Brian can confirm for everyone at home that European women really are terribly sophisticated."

"How did I know you'd be along to spoil my fun." Delphine kissed her father's cheek, as she went to gather her things. "Don't bother to throw me out, I was leaving anyway. Like a good daughter, I was simply keeping your guest company until you arrived."

"Hardly a guest. With the way you interrogate the poor man, he must feel more like family." Gilles smiled. "God help him."

"If he _were_ related, it might explain why you are both so _mean_." She gave a spurious scowl and made for the door. "If you're lucky, I'll see you for dinner on Tuesday. Brian – you come too, and bring Justin with you, if you like."

"We'll see." The man could promise nothing at this point. "Good night, Del."

She blew a kiss and let the matter of Justin drop. Maybe her father could straighten it out. He gave remarkably good advice… for a parent that is.

"I hope you know she means well." Gilles excused his daughter, once she was gone. He walked over to the dishwasher, still shaking his head at Delphine's antics.

"I do." Brian assured him. "She was just trying to help."

The man set about tidying his daughter's mess. "Oh? I wasn't aware you needed any." Gilles was a terrible liar.

"You're a terrible liar." Brian informed him with a smile. "I bet you just came from Fiona's."

"I did."

"And?" Brian cocked an eyebrow, knowing he could count on Gilles to honest.

"Well, Justin stopped in to see his friends and let's just say I didn't think he looked as happy as he might."

"And how happy does he look?"

"Not as happy as I would expect him to be had your weekend gone more to plan. Which, I assume, it didn't?""

Brian gave a frustrated laugh. "Gilles – I honestly have no idea what _the plan_ is at this point. I'd like to say I never had one, and given how ill defined it was I'm not sure you could even call it that. Whatever it may have been, it hasn't worked." He ran a hand over his face. "I am completely fucked."

"So it went better than I thought, then?" The man asked impishly, trying for a smile from his friend.

He got one.

_xxxx_

Justin sat in his room and stared at the ceiling. In a while he'd go to the window and stare out there for a bit, too. Mix it up a little. God, he'd missed grass. His tolerance was incredibly low too, since he hadn't had any decent weed practically since he'd left home. Well, not unless you counted Amsterdam, but that was some time ago and he'd only stayed a few days.

Now that was a cool city. Fantastic museums, food… and the night-life was really …interesting. He could picture he and Brian giving each other running commentary on those pathetic sex shows. Could imagine them sitting in a coffee house, smoking too much dope and shooting the shit about…. everything, and nothing… the way they used to. At the time, he _had_ imagined it. But he'd only just arrived in Europe then and had still struggled over how to deal with life. He hadn't yet perfected the façade he had going now.

It was a rare moment he allowed himself to remember that it _was_ just a façade. He'd always been sharp tongued of course, but he hadn't been mean. He'd always like to drink and party, but not like this. And he'd loved sex… but as a way to kind of celebrate life, not imitate having one. As for the not sleeping and everything, well… he knew that what Brian had said about it was probably true. He might think he was over the events of his prom, but that was extremely unlikely. What _was_ likely, however, is that he should have done what Brian suggested at the time and gone to a shrink.

The older man hadn't pushed him though, and he'd appreciated that. At the time he'd been surprised by the behaviour, but soon realized that Brian was as much at sea as he was in dealing with that night. And when people get in over their heads like that, the ending is almost always the same; one tries to save the other and in all the panic … they both drown.

Justin sparked up the joint again. He was only having a couple puffs at a time, partly because this stuff had a pungency he didn't appreciate, and partly because it was pretty strong and he wanted a buzz, not a coma. Not yet, anyway. The smoke swirled lazily towards the window, but there remained a bit of odour. It wasn't too bad, but every time he toked Justin used some of the fancy lavender room spray he'd picked up for Debbie. He'd buy another one and send it later along with the other things he bought for her and Vic.

He knew he'd gotten lousy about keeping in touch, but he didn't know what to say. He wondered if Brian had mentioned him to anyone there, and he didn't know if that would be good or bad. Or if it mattered at all.

_xxxx_

Brian waited impatiently for the phone to be answered. Gilles was right – maybe he did need to talk to someone from home. Someone he could trust to look out for his best interest when he was feeling too confused to do it himself.

His host had kindly offered what advice he could, but agreed that without some back-story, it was a little difficult, and was time consuming to tell. Time Brian didn't feel he had; he couldn't stand to feel like this for another minute.

"Hello?" Came a sleepy voice – finally. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one.

"What are you doing there? I thought you and Theodore were making with the cohabitation."

"Brian? Is that you?"

"No, Emmett, it's Jacques Chirac."

"Oh my God – how are you?"

"Still President of France, so… pretty good."

"Don't fuck with me – I had a brutally long day and you woke me from a nap."

"At Mikey's? What happened – you ditch old Ted already?"

"No, I did not _ditch_ him." Emmett's scowl was practically visible an ocean away. "We're having some scheduled alone time. One night a week I stay over here again. It's how we keep things fresh."

"Well, I hate to tell you, but I'm pretty sure Ted has already curdled." Brian couldn't help himself; it was as natural as breathing. "Listen, put Mikey on the phone, would you? It's important."

"No can do." Emmett told him. "He and Ben rented that cabin with Vic and Debbie.

"Shit, that's right." Brian knew that. Michael had mentioned it in an email last week. "Is he reachable up there?"

"Sorry sweetie." Emmett indicated the negative. "What's going on?"

What _was_ going on? God… how was he supposed to get advice when he couldn't even explain the problem. Now that he thought about it, he doubted Michael would have been able to help. It would require too much extrapolation on his part, and that was not his best friend's forté. He could try Lindsay, he supposed, but Mel would kill him for calling during dinner and he wanted to talk now, not an hour from now.

"Brian, you still there? Everything okay?"

"Of course." The words were out his mouth without even having to think about them.

"So…everything's okay, except… you're desperate to reach Michael at… what time is it there?"

"Eleven thirty." He said absently, still trying to figure out what to do. "Listen, never mind, I'll call when they get back."

Emmett doubted there would be any point to it, but he'd feel better if he offered. "Is there anything _I_ can do?"

Brian thought about it. A few months ago he doubted his answer to that question would be anything other than laughter. However, a certain scene at Woody's, prior to his departure from Pittsburgh, made Brian wonder if the man might be a good confidante after all. As far as he knew, Emmett had never mentioned his own confrontation with Kip to anyone, and Brian appreciated the way his friend had defended both he and Justin.

Just as Emmett was about to interpret Brian's silence as 'get serious', the man spoke. "Actually… maybe you could give me some minor assistance."

"Sure - what's up?"

Brian wasn't really sure how to begin. He'd never confided in Emmett to the extent he was going to need to. "Listen, it's about something serious and I just… well, promise me you won't tell anyone, all right?"

"What kind of person do you think I am?"

"I repeat: promise me you won't tell them."

"Brian – I realize you hate to talk, so I swear whatever it is, goes in one ear and out the other, okay?" He tried to convey some seriousness.

Brian sighed and then just said it. "I met up with Justin here in France."

Emmett sat up. "I think I'm going to need some caffeine." He slid his legs off the couch and put his feet into the waiting, fuzzy slippers. "Okay, you start talking and I'll start the coffee." Emmett walked the short distance to the kitchen and searched the cupboard for what he'd need.

"Well, I was…"

"Where do they keep … here it is." Emmett muttered as he rummaged though the shelves. "Sorry, Brian go ahead and … ooh hey - I've always wondered... if coffee is made from beans, does that make it a vegetable?"

Brian sighed. "Emmett, I beg you not to help me."

_xxxx_

Having progressed to the window seat by now, Justin stared out into the dark courtyard. He thought about going down and sitting for a while, but was too comfortably ensconced. He didn't feel fucked up by any means, just like he'd taken the edge off a bit. Actually, he was still hoping to get in a little sketching tonight. He wasn't tired and sometimes a few hits aided the creative process. Or at least enhanced his perspective.

Perspective was one thing he could use right now, too. This day had been totally, off the charts weird. Oh, it had its good moments, but… overall, it had been way too much for him. He'd very nearly lost it when Brian brought up the Kip Thomas incident. He hadn't even thought about it for ages.

In his panic over that divulgence, he'd made his one of his own – with disastrous consequences. Although… an argument had been brewing all day – he could feel it. And he knew why. The pressure of being with Brian and not being _with_ Brian was making him nuts. Okay – more nuts.

He'd rationalized how to handle the situation, of course. He had to. The deal was – he got to use this time to pay back some of the favors he owed his ex, and more importantly, leave things between them on a better note. It hadn't been going half bad either until today… when one, or both of them, had hit a flat.

He should have known that it wouldn't work. Even though he understood now that love was a crock of shit; it didn't mean he could stop wanting Brian, stop needing to be with him. If he was around the man for long, he couldn't keep up the act, and the cracks in his defenses became more obvious.

His emotional armor had failed him utterly and it was because he'd spent so much time around Brian the last few days. He'd been insane to try it, and he hadn't really processed the possible ramifications of today's events, yet. All he knew was there was no way he was thinking about it anymore tonight - he couldn't, or his brain would explode.

He hadn't wanted to go out drinking with the guys either, having pled exhaustion to beg off. He didn't even have the energy to deal with friends right now, and God forbid Brian turned up at the bar – he couldn't risk seeing him until he'd had a chance to shore up some emotional fortitude. Scarlett was right: he'd think about it tomorrow.

For now he'd sit here, smoke just enough weed to keep him mellow and contemplate his navel; avoiding entirely the desire to contemplate someone else's.

_xxxx_

"Okay, so … you kissed him. Did he kiss you back?"

"Everyone kisses me back."

"Right, of course." Emmett rolled his eyes, and took another sip from his cup of Colombian. "How far did it get?"

"Not very. It was getting interesting when he pulled away and told me it wasn't what he wanted."

"Do you believe him?"

"Yes and no."

"Which probably means yes he wants you, but no he doesn't want to."

"That was the impression I got, yeah."

"So then what happened?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?"

"I drove him home and… Christ – he's even got _me_ acting like he lives here. Emmett… he doesn't want to come back! Are you fucking getting that?"

"I've got it." Emmett promised him. "Deb says Jennifer's been worried about that for some time, and none of us have had regular emails for…about as long as you've been there, actually."

"Well, it's nice to know that I at least warrant distraction."

"I'm sure he finds you very distracting; it doesn't sound like that's your problem."

"Okay – I'll bite… what is?"

"Based on what I know about Justin, and if everything you've told me is true… the problem is that he's turned into… well…into you, Brian." Emmett spelled out what the man had already suspected, and continued. "Now, I want you to remember that I'm your friend and I care about you, but …you are a _mother fucker_ to deal with most of the time."

"Don't sugar-coat it for me, Emmett – really."

"And don't get mad. You know it's true."

"So what? Everyone needs a hobby…"

"I think it's more like a calling." Emmett laughed a little, since Brian didn't sound mad, merely amused. "I swear… the only one who can consistently do anything with you, is … oh my God – that's it!"

"What?"

"I know what you have to do if you're ever going to figure out what's going on with him."

"And that would be?"

"You have to be him." Emmett paused dramatically, impressed with his solution. "Do you see where I'm going?"

"Insane?"

"Just listen." Emmett insisted. "You were, and still are, as far as I know, a sarcastic, asshole who fucks everything that moves, but doesn't give a shit about any of them. And why? You'd know best, of course, but my educated guess is that it's an effort to avoid the pain that comes with all close relationships."

"Is there a point to this ill-advised analysis of my psyche?"

"The point is that you did give a shit about one of them, and a big part of the reason why is because he was able to persistently destroy every roadblock you ever put in his path. No matter what you dished out – he thought you were worth it." When Brian said nothing, Emmett continued his explanation. "What I'm saying, Brian, is that if he's turned himself into you… you have to turn yourself into him. Or at least incorporate his tactics, since they're the only ones I've ever seen be effective on you. When he thwarts you… ask yourself, what would Justin do?" Emmett explained it the best way he could. "_Now_ are you following this?"

"Amazingly, yes." Brian had to admit, it did make a certain warped sense. "I just don't think I can pull it off."

"Don't be ridiculous. Brian Kinney can pull off anything."

"I thought you told me to be Justin." Brian reminded him, sarcastically.

"You know what I meant. Don't be so fucking literal." Emmett admonished. "You just have to think about your game plan the way Justin would. Unfortunately, you've already missed a golden opportunity."

"Hardly surprising." He sighed in frustration. "Enlighten me."

"You let him drop everything. You were in the perfect position to crack his shell and find out what he's feeling, and you just let it go."

"You didn't see him, Emmett. " Brian disagreed. "He completely shut down on me. I got nothing but sarcasm and refusal to even concede the situation. He tried to act like everything could go back to normal, for Christ's sake!"

"That sounds like you all right." Emmett acknowledged. "Come on, Brian. What does it mean when _you_ do that? Usually that you're pretty close to a freak out, right?"

Brian thought about it, but didn't really want to answer. He'd wanted advice, not this adventure in psychotherapy. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Emmett contradicted. "For example, the night Justin left … at the party… did it hurt?"

Brian didn't say anything. There were no words for how much it had hurt, actually, but even if there were, he didn't think he could utter them.

"In one ear and the other…" Emmett reminded him. "I swear on my autographed picture of Liza."

"All right." Brian gave a small laugh at the absurdity. "No… it wasn't exactly the best I've ever felt."

Emmett let the understatement slide, since he had enough to make his point with. "Okay... so, when it happened what did you do?"

Brian thought back. "Basically ignored it and danced with some random guy."

"In other words tried to act normal."

"I guess so."

"But I'm betting you didn't take him home."

"No." Brian admitted, wondering how Emmett knew that. "I didn't trick that night. Well… not after Justin left."

"We'll let that one go." Emmett shook his head and made an exasperated face, though Brian couldn't see. "So… you went home alone. Now, tell me… what would have happened if Justin had come over to get his stuff right after."

Brian sighed. "I don't think I would have handled it very well."

"Elaborate."

"I guess there's a chance I would have …had to address certain things that I'd rather not."

"But you didn't, because before you had to deal with him or anyone else, you'd had time to get a handle on things."

"I guess." Brian didn't guess – he knew. He'd needed the whole night alone to pull himself together well enough to be seen.

"Right." Emmett continued. "But if he _had_ cornered you that night – insisted on a confrontation… could you have maintained your usual bravado or would you, as I suspect, have folded like a bathhouse of cards and admitted anything he cared to hear?"

Brian smirked – getting where this was going, now. "Surely the ever ethical Mr. Honeycutt isn't suggesting that I deliberately exploit someone's emotional weaknesses?"

"I'm suggesting that I think you're right to be concerned, and that if you can figure out how to make sure he's okay, you shouldn't worry too much about doing it morally. You say he shut down like you do when you're feeling particularly raw, so I'm suggesting… you get the hell over there and exploit away."

Brian didn't know what to say to that.

"Oh… and don't call me Shirley." The man added.

To this, Brian knew what to say. "It was killing you not to, wasn't it."

"Little bit, yeah." Emmett's goofy smiled was obvious in his voice and Brian found that if he thought about it… he missed it just the teeniest bit. So he didn't.

"Okay, I understand what you're saying, but it's not like I can just show up and he'll start talking. What if he manages to pull it together and I get nothing?"

"It's only been a few hours, so that's unlikely. The boy you described is not going to get himself together in a few hours. You know Justin… he mulls everything over to death – just like you."

"He said that, you know."

"Really?"

"Well, what he actually said was that he was just a more recent version of me, and my narcissistic nature couldn't resist him." Brian's laughter contained only a little bitterness.

"He might be on to something there." Emmett agreed. "So, if that's true – then you've got some of the same qualities he has, just as he has yours. And one of his better qualities was always persistence. Did Justin ever take no for an answer?"

"He seemed to, but I generally found out he'd gotten around me somehow." Brian admitted, with some amusement.

"And you will too." Emmett assured him. "You'll do it in your own warped Brian way, I have no doubt, but you'll figure out what to do when you get there. Just don't give him the opportunity to regroup. Be prepared to do whatever it takes to get him to talk… including capitalize on the fact that his emotional equilibrium is out of whack."

"You're right." Brian hated to admit that to anyone. "I should have pressed the issue while I had him trapped in the car."

"You still have time…" Emmett assured him. "but Brian… try not to do any lasting damage, okay?"

"To him or myself?"

"Both."

"Listen, Emmett…"

"I know, I know." Emmett returned them to their regularly scheduled programming. "We never had this conversation… what conversation? See – I've forgotten it already. Who were you calling again?"

"Thanks." Brian told him seriously.

"Oh it was nothing." Emmett sniffed, crown firmly back in place. "I was just being indispensable. That's what friends are for."

"If you say so."

"Actually, you know what really ramps a friendship up? Expensive gifts."

"Good night, Emmett."

_xxxx_

Justin hadn't heard the noise at first, his focus being solely on his sketch. He'd been working on his umpteenth drawing of the courtyard, but they were always different, depending on his mood. He started it the way he started them all, but had begun to fill in the tree by the bench, and part of the fountain.

KNOCK KNOCKKNOCK KNOCK Louder this time.

"Jesus, I'm coming." He yelled, his voice full of annoyance. He put down his pad and pencil, got up and threw on a shirt from the back of a chair, then crossed the room, moving the ashtray to the kitchen counter as he did so. He thought he might have the other half of that joint soon - especially if he couldn't get rid of the person at his door. He knew that knock all too well, since Andy often slept on his floor if he were very drunk and had to work early. "Listen, this isn't the best night for a sleep-over, buddy." He started to open the door. "Why don't you go crash with that waitress who thinks you're…." Justin looked up. "…Brian."

"I sincerely doubt she's my type." The man cocked an eyebrow and leaned nonchalantly against the door jam. "Well… are you going to invite me in?"

Justin sighed and crossed his arms. "As you just heard… I'm not exactly in the mood for visitors right now."

"I need to talk to you." He found the words easier to say this time.

"Brian, it's one in the morning."

The man shrugged. "And clearly… you're awake; so what is the problem?"

Justin grudgingly took a step back. "Fine, come in."

"What is that stench?" Brian inquired as he walked by. "It smells like a skunk died and all the other skunks sent flowers."

"What do you want?" Justin ignored him and got to the point.

The man turned and looked right at him. "I want an answer."

"I already said 'no' – you came in anyway."

"I mean the answer to 'why didn't you tell me?'"

"Can you be more specific?" Justin wasn't going to help him with this. "I'm not sure which can of worms we're dining on."

"Take your pick." Brian returned smoothly. "I'm interested in that answer as it applies to both entrées."

"Well, neither one is on the menu." Justin ended the irritating volley. "This is none of your business."

"I disagree; when you blackmail someone on my behalf – you fucking make it my business." Brian hadn't intended to get angry, but found the emotion difficult to avoid. And he didn't like feeling foolish, either. He thought he'd known Justin so well, had him pegged; but the kid completely disarmed him with this one; with what he was willing to do in order to help Brian, only to claim none of the credit.

Justin closed the door and walked back across the room in a huff. "Okay, it's your business. I'm sorry I meddled in it… but it's unlikely to happen again. Happy now?"

Not by a long shot. "And Prom?"

"What about it?" Justin feigned ignorance.

"If you remember, then you know what." Brian narrowed his eyes. "Don't give me that shit."

"I told you before that I don't want to talk about any of this."

"Too bad." Brian sat down, moving the sketchbook out of the way. "I won't even go into the insanity that was the Kip Thomas affair, but I do want to know why you let me think you knew nothing about it."

"As long as it worked, why did you need to know?" Justin didn't see the point in this. He did see the point in that joint again however, and so picked it up, along with his new Zippo. He leaned against the counter and tried to light it. Nothing. He shook the lighter and tried again. Still nothing. "This lighter is disappointing me."

"You always shake them too hard." Brian sighed and got up from the window seat. He walked over, took the lighter and tapped it gently a couple times. Then he held it up, and lit Justin's joint for him. The young man inhaled deeply and, out of habit, passed the joint to Brian, who took it just as automatically.

"You know…" Justin commented absently. "You always reminded me of Fonzie - the way you fix that kind of shit. Was I ever high enough to tell you that?" He shook his head at the notion, as he accepted the joint again. "Pittsburgh's gay Fonzie. I guess that's basically Rage." Justin took another hit, put it out, then grabbed the lavender spritzer off the counter and gave it a few pumps.

"God, is that what that smell is?" Brian went to sit on a chair beside the bed, and watched Justin take a swig from his water bottle. "All right, we'll let the Kip thing go for now, but what about…" Brian sighed. "I don't understand why you wouldn't tell me what you remembered."

The artist took his original seat by the window and looked at the garden again, trying to keep himself from flying apart, and wondering what to say to make Brian leave. He so couldn't deal with this right now.

"Justin?" Brian prodded impatiently, wondering what the kid saw when he stared out into the dark.

"I really don't think you can blame me for not wanting to think about, never mind talk about, that night again, Brian. However, if you think I should have told you sooner, then I'm sorry." He couldn't help the harshness in his tone. Not when he felt this trapped.

Brian didn't respond well to it, of course. He had much less patience for this sort of thing than Justin did, which made it all the more puzzling that he persisted. "Please - the only reason you told me today was to change the subject. It was just a way to get to me." Brian knew the kid hadn't really intended to make the admission; he'd merely been desperate. "You just didn't contemplate what the consequences might be, if it worked."

"Well, you certainly put me in my place quick enough." Justin said bitterly. "Were you going to point out how pathetic I was, or just let me figure it out for myself?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Brian! How far did you plan to let it go?" Justin finally allowed himself to get upset about this whole stupid mess. "All the way, or just until I'd humiliated myself by begging for it? Get the inexperienced kid all eager, then walk away… was that the laugh you were going for?"

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Maybe to rub my immaturity and mistakes in my face– remind me who's in charge."

"Justin, I wouldn't…" Brian was dismayed.

"Right… because you've never done anything like _that_ before."

Brian coloured at the memory. It had been a shitty thing to do, and he had regretted it several times since.

"That was different… I was angry and… it was just different."

"But you weren't mad today?"

"All right, yes… for a minute. But it was more that I didn't know what to say."

Justin scoffed. "And you do now?"

"Apparently not." Brian said curtly, trying to keep his cool. He thought he had been pretty persistent so far and, what's more, he'd kept his temper, although some wouldn't think so. Compared to how absolutely frustrated he was with this situation, this kid, and himself… he thought he'd been remarkably calm. He wasn't sure what to say now, but after a moment Justin spoke first.

"Weren't you mad after the Rage party?" He asked quietly.

"No… I… not exactly."

"Most people would agree you deserved to be." Justin pointed out. "So why not?"

"Because I knew we didn't have locks." Brian explained it to him, like he'd explained it to the others.

"Bullshit – why?"

"Maybe I thought he was right for you … that you should be with him."

"Please." Justin dismissed it. "Try again"

"Jesus, I thought it might be easier on you, all right?" Brian finally caved. "I knew what you felt you needed and I just… it wasn't something I could give. Based on that, it was doomed, anyway, so I figured why shouldn't you go sooner, rather than later."

Justin gave a loud sigh. "I know."

"What do you mean?"

Justin stared at him, incredulity evident on his face. "Do you really think I couldn't figure out that the King of confidence, is really the Duke of doubt?" He laughed harshly at his weed fueled pun, and shook his head at Brian's ignorance. "You think I didn't understand that it wasn't that you couldn't love me - you just didn't _want_ to, since you were sure that one day I'd leave anyway."

This was not what Brian had expected to hear. "If that's true – then why did you?"

"Because you had to control everything!" Justin shouted it, then recovered himself slightly. "…even that." He met the bewildered hazel gaze unflinchingly. "You couldn't just be honest with me about how you felt one way or the other, so you said nothing – which was just your way of running things."

"And what precisely do you think I controlled?"

"Me, us… the whole thing, Brian. I had to leave so I could make decisions on my own for a change."

"Which seem to entail screwing your way across Europe in an scotch induced haze, so forgive me if I think you might still need a little guidance from time to time." Brian informed him, sarcastically. "Now, what is up with the alcoholic fuck-fest?"

"You can hardly criticize my methods of pain management, Brian – they always work for you."

"No." The brunette sighed heavily with the admission. "They don't."

Justin imagined he heard an almost vulnerable tone, but refused to credit it. "Well, I'm sorry if I've mastered them where you haven't, but I don't need you fucking with what works for me." He looked back out the window and spoke with his back to Brian. "I think we're about done here."

The older man couldn't agree less. He'd been trying very hard to understand the kid's defensiveness, and like Emmett told him: work though it persistently, the way Justin would. But this was getting ridiculous. Time to bring in the big guns, and hope he wouldn't shoot himself in the foot… or anywhere else. "What would you say if I told you that I've missed you?"

"I don't know." Justin answered without turning around. "Why? Do you think it's the sort of thing you're likely to say?"

"Jesus Christ." That was it - Brian had officially run out of patience. "Why are you making this so fucking difficult?"

"I don't make things difficult." Justin turned around and glared. "That's the way they get all by themselves. Now …I think it's time for you to leave." With that he got up, intending to facilitate an exit for his guest so that he could fall apart in private.

However the taller man caught up with Justin as he reached the door of the suite. The youth had opened it nearly half way, when Brian came up behind him and slammed it shut, trapping the artist between it, and himself.

"Bria -" The protest was silenced by a hard and possessive kiss, laid on after Justin had been spun around and pushed roughly against the door. The breath was knocked out of him, but he struggled weakly against the assault. Brian merely leaned in the harder, growling as he took possession of Justin's mouth; alternately abusing and beguiling it into submission.

That growl had to be the most erotic thing Justin had ever heard. It made him want to surrender completely, just like some ridiculous Harlequin heroine. And as he hadn't kissed anyone since Brian, the impact of those perfect lips on his again, was made all the more powerful.

He tossed his head back, moaning a little, when his companion broke away to trail his hot mouth down Justin's neck, nipping along the smooth skin as he ground their hips together. Justin cursed softly when he felt an erection at least as hard as his own pressing against his thigh. Oh God… Brian was going to fuck him… maybe right here up against the door, and it was going to be so so good, so…. No! He was pretty sure that letting Brian fuck him was near the top of his list of things not to do. He had to put a stop to this.

He raised a hand to shove his would be captor away, but a gesture meant to resist, somehow ended up drawing the man closer instead. He found himself caressing Brian's hair, as the older man licked and nibbled his throat. Apparently Justin's body knew what his heart wanted, even if his mind wavered.

Finally, with a burst of determination he didn't know he had, he pushed Brian back a step. "This is a bad idea." His voice strained with passion and apprehension.

"On the contrary." Came the husky reply. "This is the best idea I've had all week." The assault began anew.

"Brian… stop." Justin managed, around the lips that had returned to his.

Out of nowhere came the question, breathed hotly against Justin's mouth, the lack of segue confusing him. "Have you changed your safe word?"

"What? No – I haven't needed… what does that have to do with anything?" He tried to pull back and get a clear look at Brian.

"You don't want to talk about things? Fine." The man met his gaze and didn't waver, his hands remaining on either side of Justin, keeping him still. "Then I don't plan to listen to anything that isn't '_harder, Brian_' or '_Boy-wonder'_…so why don't you just shut up and save your breath; you might need it."

Justin tried to squirm away again. "Are you insane?"

"Yes." Brian leaned in and licked his cheek, eliciting a quiet gasp from the blonde. "But the order still stands."

"You can't just…" Whatever the artist had been going to say, was lost to the onslaught of another vehement kiss. Brian had come here to communicate with this kid, God damn it, and communicate he would. He'd tried being reasonable… more than reasonable, actually, and still his efforts went rebuffed.

When Justin refused to even acknowledge Brian's admission of missing him, something in the older man snapped. He didn't know what to try now. God – he wasn't really like this too, was he? This closed off and inflexible? Emmett had said to think like Justin would, and if the situation were reversed, he knew Justin wouldn't back down and leave, and so neither would he. However, he would put his own Brian Kinney spin on how he managed his stay.

For his part, Justin couldn't help returning the kiss. It was utterly impossible not to. It was what he was used to… what he missed… what he needed. Though he wasn't quite ready to admit to the former yet. At the same time his tongue tangled with Brian's, so did his limbs, alternating between pulling away and struggling to get closer.

Brian slid the plain blue shirt up Justin's body, letting his finger tips graze panting sides as he did so. Swiftly pulling it over the fair head, he let it remain around the extended arms, holding Justin's hands trapped above him, and leaning down, Brian inhaled deeply, having missed this scent more than he'd realized. It was that strange blend of Justin combined with his sandalwood and vanilla soap… intoxicatingly erotic, and smelling like something good to eat.

His hands now held aloft by only one of Brian's, Justin made no legitimate move to struggle. He cried out when a firm hand undid and pushed beneath the waist of his jeans. Blood rushed to his groin, and he expanded to almost painful tightness as Brian took hold of him, and began running his thumb over the crown of Justin's aching flesh.

The blond head fell back against the wall, the short gasps intensified, as Brian's lips latched once more onto Justin's throat, sucking and licking. He was right… definitely good to eat, and that's just what Brian intended.

He pulled Justin to him aggressively, letting the youth's arms go free, the T-shirt dropping to the floor. He already had the first two buttons of Justin's jeans undone and he didn't know if the now freed hands had moved there to hurry, or to hinder, but either way… he wasn't going to allow it.

Brian walked them backwards into the room a few feet, never breaking their connection. He mauled Justin with his kisses, the artist's mouth coming back at him as desperate and insatiate as his own. They fell on the bed, with Brian trapping Justin against a solid surface once again, intent on keeping him still. When he broke for a moment to remove his own shirt, he found his vigilance well justified.

"Brian… please…" Justin panted, trying to twist out from under the man, the shock of their drop to the bed having brought with it, transient clarity. He was sure his emotions were all but transparent, and realized that his façade would be lost in capitulating to Brian. "We can't… I just… it's too much. We have to stop..."

The man kicked his shoes off and let them fall beside the bed, then looked into Justin's flushed face, observing the anxiety there. "It isn't nearly enough… that's the problem."

Justin tried to look away. "Let me go."

"No." Brian turned his face back and stared down at Justin, trying to convey the futility of fighting and hoping that it worked, because this magician was working with an empty hat now. "But you can keep trying to stop me if it'll make you feel better." He punctuated the remark with a kiss.

The blue eyes closed, having no other way to shut out hazel ones that were getting all too close to viewing his secrets. He didn't know why the words that could release him refused to come out…. he was thinking them as hard as he could. Every time he went to finally say them, he was overwhelmed by the thought of speaking that other phrase… and what might happen if he did.

When Brian had thrown the safe-word reminder out, he did so with the intention of honoring it. But now he really wasn't sure if he could– not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. And he'd never had to heed it before, since Justin considered it a matter of pride not to use it. He viewed it as giving in, and although Brian was normally cognizant of that fact, and appropriately cautious, this time he'd been counting on the youthful hubris.

Although this probably wasn't what he'd meant, Emmett had said to be careful of letting the kid regroup, so Brian renewed his attack on Justin's mouth, and began to run his hands over the lightly tanned skin of the lithe torso beneath him. He moved his lips stealthily down the arched neck, and exulted in Justin's unconscious fingering of his hair.

He' intended to fight it… he really did, but Justin felt lost in a fog of incapacity. He couldn't do anything but abandon himself to this moment. It was too late now, for there was no going back – not with Brian's lips warm and wet on him… and just about to….oh god, there he went; covering Justin's nipple with that matchless mouth and sucking on it until he thought he'd scream. His fingers found themselves twisted in Brian's hair, suggesting abandoned resistance.

Brian went lower still, tracing his tongue along Justin's hipbone, while he pulled off his jeans. A little squirming rid him off his own as well, but not before he'd retrieved some supplies from the pocket. He put them where he'd find them and turned his attention back to the aroused body, half trapped beneath his.

There were no further protestations, but Brian intended to ignore them if there were, perhaps even revel in them. He knew they wouldn't truly be meant for him. He suspected the only one Justin would be fighting now was himself, and Brian wasn't going to make it easy for him.

Without warning he pressed Justin's thighs to the bed, and put his mouth to the engorged prick in front of him, licking it from root to tip. He did it again and again and again, as though he all the time in the world and he kept going until Justin began making sounds that suggested the most exquisite pain.

It crossed Brian's mind to continue Justin's suffering, having missed so much the way he could make this body respond to him. However, to wait would be to torture himself as well, and he felt he'd had enough of that lately.

He licked and bit his way back up the smooth abdomen and chest, listening as Justin whimpered and gasped. At this point he suspected the protests had more to do with the removal of his mouth from Justin's cock, rather than a wish to cease their encounter. Not that it mattered. Either way, he enjoyed hearing the little moans that came out in no sensible order. "uh…God… mmm….don't… no…ohh…please…" And finally just, "Brian…." drawn out in a long exhale of breath, as the larger man settled over him and drew his legs up.

He felt Justin's hand clumsily reaching for his now sheathed cock, guiding it to him. "Fuck me." Hardly more than a whisper, but Brian heard it, and he watched his partner's face tense as he lubed his fingers and slowly pushed them in. Justin was tighter than he remembered and, despite the lube, the pressure was enough to make him pause for a second. But he couldn't stop… not with Justin moaning beneath him, squirming, and swearing in little breathy bursts.

Brian slid a hand under Justin's knees, forcing them higher before aligning himself again, and penetrating that perfect ass. The body beneath him was more welcoming now, and Brian set a steady rhythm inside it, riding the twisting form hard and fast. There was no time for subtlety between them now, and Brian found it so easy to be brutal; to take and take, and feel Justin yield sweetly under the force of Brian's lips… his fingers… his cock.

Justin moved a hand between his own legs, stroking himself desperately. God, he was so close; knew Brian was already close. He hadn't forgotten.. could never forget… the low hum that began in the back of Brian's throat when he was really focused on the fucking… those little gasps and groans he made when he was about to come.

Brian managed to reach down and move Justin's hand away, wrapping his own firm grip around the throbbing cock, wanting to feel it when he came. He kept his eyes on the other man's face, even though Justin had his closed. He wanted to memorize every reaction, every lick of full lips, every flutter of eyelashes, every twitch of a muscle. He never wanted to forget what it was like to make this beautiful man gasp and moan and grip Brian's arms until his knuckles turned white.

Having held back as long as he could, …Brian could feel his body about to betray him. He didn't want this connection to end, but he was going to come and he didn't think he could stop. So, he increased his frenzied pace on Justin's body, hoping to drive him to completion as well. His hand was still flying up and down Justin's dripping shaft, even as his own emptied itself into the condom, accompanied by a rush of emotion like he hadn't felt in…. too long.

Justin could feel the pulsing of Brian's dick shooting inside him. And while he'd been skillfully kept on the edge all this time, he was ready to fall now too. All it took was a glimpse of Brian's euphoric expression as he came and Justin was lost. Brian's hand stoked the burning flesh until it finally exploded, covering both their bodies in the wet proof of Justin's submission.

He closed his eyes again, while he felt the last tremors of the cock that remained inside him. Brian's head rested on his chest, one hand still on Justin's spent sex, the other, idly caressing the leg that had resumed a more supine position. Justin combed his fingers though Brian's hair and, for now, allowed himself to relish these moments of post-orgasmic peace – sure that they couldn't last, but letting himself hope just a little. He faded off to sleep, with that hope warming a place inside him that had felt cold for some time.

Brian also relaxed in the embrace. God, he'd missed it more than he'd thought possible. He loved the after part of sex with Justin and now that he was back in these arms, in this body... he had no idea how he'd gone so long without. It seemed impossible that he had, and he knew with absolute certain that he couldn't do without them again… not and be happy. They weren't all he wanted, though… he needed the heart and mind that went with them.

**The Tower: - XVI**: This card symbolizes the breaking apart of structures that have kept you imprisoned. Sudden and unexpected life changes form the core of the Tower's meaning. These changes seem to crash into your life out of nowhere. But if you are entirely honest with yourself about what you believe and the patterns that you have set in motion in your life, you realize this card has appeared because of a subconscious urge to break free.

On an inner level, the destruction of Tower is akin to the breaking-down of the fortress called the ego. When you build a wall to hide your secrets or to conceal your true self, you must know that sooner or later the wall will come tumbling down. Fantasies are particularly prone to being shattered by the power of this card; the Tower dissipates them like sunlight burning away fog. Fantasies and daydreams will not help where you are going so it is best to let go of them now.

In a reading: When you believe appearances are more powerful than spirit and mind, you start building up a Tower of falsehoods on a very unstable foundation. If, by some miracle of engineering, it does not collapse under its own weight, you will eventually push it over yourself. The Tower falls not because Fate says so but because something within can no longer endure the strain it must bear. Sooner or later it will give out. This is a humbling experience because its lesson is that no one is invincible. The problem for most people is that they concentrate on the negatives and ignore the great opportunity that has been given to them.

Sometimes, when accepted and welcomed, divine wisdom and enlightenment flow freely like a calm river. The rest of the time, wisdom is blocked until it rages forth like a tidal wave and crushes anything in its path, including the recipient of the wisdom. This is the energy of the Tower card, energy very similar to Death in that it is both a destructive and a creative force. When a building is old and decrepit, it must be demolished so that a new structure may stand in its place. The same is true of the symbolic Tower. When old attitudes and beliefs are outdated, you will have to let go of them, whether you like it or not.


End file.
